


Mirror, Mirror

by Drowned_dreamer



Category: Moonlight (TV), Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Dopplegangers, F/M, Mystery, Romance, Vampires, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-04 22:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 63,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drowned_dreamer/pseuds/Drowned_dreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes what you see in the mirror can shock you.  Josef finds himself faces to face with a 10 year old Logan Echolls and doesn't know what to do about that.  And for a vampire, that's not a good thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a one-shot that I expanded into a full story. I wanted to do a crossover piece with these two shows and I kept thinking wouldn't it be cool if Josef and Logan met each other? That idea just kept growing and it expanded into this story about WHY they would look alike. There's a lot of LoVe elements in here as well.
> 
> This is not beta'd so please forgive any errors!
> 
> Most of the story takes place after Season 1 of Veronica Mars and after the Series Finale of Moonlight.   
> Rated T for language and violence  
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from either Veronica Mars or Moonlight

Josef Kostan hated children.

He hates them with an intentional fury and an irrational dread. There is something so completely _uncomfortable_ about children and that made him want to break and tear into things and damn the consequences.

Josef hated being uncomfortable.

So why, in all his fury and gall, was he seemingly imprisoned by a pair of brown eyes set wide in the small, lean face of a lanky, frail boy halfway across a crowded room. Was it just because this was possibly the only child he had ever seen at one of these tedious and self-serving Hollywood charity events that was really more like a gathering of vultures circling the next soon-to-be victim of the Hollywood machine? Or was there something else there? Like the way the kid, who had to be only 10 or 11 or 7 or 3 for all he knows or cares, held his jaw and set his hands at his side like he just didn't give a shit about anyone in this room. Josef could emphasize with that. Hell, he was only here at this snooze fest because Mick had dragged him along, _again_ , to go after a mark and he knew Josef could get easily get him into one of these shindigs, because, damn it, he was rich!

Josef twirls the subpar scotch in his glass for the 1000th time that night and wishes it held something else. Something a little thicker and headier. Something a little bit redder in color. He raised it to his lips, but doesn't drink. His eyes continue to track the boy.

The kid had moved away from the center of the party and was leaning unenthusiastically against a large window overlooking a predictably manicured yard. His small body twitches and jerks with boredom until a waiter carrying a tray of champagne drifts by him. Suddenly, a glass is in his small hands and he's eagerly throwing back the drink like a 40-year old alcoholic.

Josef stops the slight twitching at the corner of his mouth almost as soon as it begins.

The drink finished, the kid continues to play with the glass, twirling it through his hands and watching the crowd only for the arrival of the next drink-laden waiter. His eyes are wide and full of knowing. Hell, most adults Josef meets couldn't convey that level of world-wariness and arrogance at the same time. It was an expression he was eerily comfortable with.

Josef chuckles and looks down at his own tumbler.

"Hey, where have you been?" Mick asks, popping up beside him in a heated rush.

Josef turns and shrugs slightly, "Should I tell you about my time as a sheep herder in the Alps or how about getting laid by seven geishas in the emperor's own summer palace?"

Mick raises an eyebrow, clearly not amused. "What?"

Josef sucks in a breath, mostly out of habit. "Did you find your..." he waves his hands about apathetically, "...guy? Does this mean we can return the handlebars to their original upright position and exit this roller coaster of extreme delight?"

"No, he hasn't shown up yet. But my contact told he should be here soon. Unfortunately, that means-"

Josef puts a hand up to stop him. "Don't say it. If you say that it, that will make it come true." He turns to Mick, locking eyes. "If he is not here soon, and by soon, I mean like last year, I will kill him myself."

Mick smiles lightly and nods. "I may just let you."

At that moment, Josef's gaze slips and returns to the kid who had apparently found another drink to replace the champagne he had emptied. Unfortunately, Mick notices the slip.

"Who the hell brings a kid to one of these things?" He growls, scanning the immediate area for signs of a watchful parent. "Is he getting crocked? I bet he's not even in his teens yet." The irritation in his voice is unmistakable. Mick definitely did _not_ hate children.

Josef turned to reply, but Mick was already gone, slipping through the crowd in the same manner he arrived. Joseph lifts his glass again, and then lowers it down, slightly puzzled over that exact thing.

Unfortunately, he also makes the mistake of looking up. At the same exact time as the kid.

For a 400-year old vampire, not much really shook Josef anymore. Sure, things were occasionally shocking and tragic, but that sort of foundation-rocking, soul-searing terror just didn't happen to him. Until now.

Looking into the boy's eyes is like opening a gate unto a sun-dazzled field after spending a lifetime in the darkness. Memories and emotions he hadn't known he possessed wash over him like a tsunami, pulling him apart and pushing him under. He's looking at a mirror of his former self, his former _human_ self, and it makes him wish for things he never even knew he wished for.

_Who the fuck is this kid?_

"Echolls," Mick huffs. "Smug-ass bastard brings his kid to the party and ditches him." It takes Josef several seconds to even register what he had just been told. Mick hitches his thumb towards the center of the crowded ballroom where a crowd was gathered around a tall, well-built Hollywood cliché of a man. "Fucking actors," Mick seethes and shakes his head. "He brings his wife and kids with him to all this stuff so he can show what a great and loving family man he is. Meanwhile, little Logan over there is off on a bender," he flips his thumb forward and then points to where a young, dark-haired teenage girl was wrapping herself up around a guy old enough to be her grandfather, "and precious Trina is looking for her next producer-slash-dealer-slash-boyfriend."

"Ah, Mick, I didn't know you watched the Hallmark movie of the week," Josef laughs, patting his arm. Anything to get the feelings under control and locked back into their lead-lined box.

Mick brushes off his hand and rolls his shoulders. "I just..." Stopping himself, he closes his eyes as the anger surging through him threatens to overtake his control. It doesn't take long though before he calms and the anger is contained. "Kids shouldn't have to suffer for the sins of their parents, you know." He says quietly.

Josef agrees but thinks that most kids do nothing but suffer for the sins of the parent. It's just the way of the world. Still, it bothers him more than he's willing to admit. Especially now.

"You gonna do something about it?" Josef hears himself ask.

Mick looks at him curiously, not sure what his angle is. "Maybe."

Suddenly, Mick's phone chirps and he looks down at the text. "He's here. I'll signal you when I've got what I need from him, or if I need you to step in." Like smoke, Mick evaporates into the jungle throng of people.

By now, the kid has a new glass and his posture against the wall is unsteady and slipping slightly.

A woman, in an elegant backless blue cocktail dress approaches the boy. "There you are! What are you doing? I told you to stay with me." She says, clearly annoyed. In a softer voice, she adds, "you know he wanted us to stay close tonight." Bending down to his eye level, she runs a finger over his cheek in a gesture both tender and patronizing.

For the first time, the kid's eyes soften to a warm cocoa of longing and hopefulness. It only lasts a second, as his gaze darts off towards the man in the center of the room. "I'm sorry, Mom. I just...couldn't." His voice hitches and breaks. It's the first time Josef has heard him speak and a little tiny ember in his cold heart roars into a sudden bonfire. He quickly finds the fire extinguisher and quenches it before it can do any further damage.

The woman sighs, her shoulders sag, and she drops her hand from his cheek. "I know," she replies. "Stay here and be good. Don't make a scene." There is a heavy, unbroken silence between them. She quickly checks over her shoulder and stands up. "He's pretty preoccupied tonight anyway. Hopefully he won't notice." She seems to say this more to herself than the kid. She turns to him one last time, completely oblivious to the way his eyes are slightly hazy and his body can't seem to find balance. "Don't get into trouble." She warns and slides back into the crowd.

Josef thinks he might just hate her more than a little. It bothers him immensely.

The boy however, watches her go with that same soft, pleading look. He doesn't seem bothered by the coldness of her manner, only by the fact that she is no longer there. Not long after, he lets his gaze drift back to the floor, and he finishes the rest of the drink in his hand, not with gusto, but like its something disgusting but necessary.

Josef has a sudden, desperate urge to rush to the boy's side and comfort him.

_Where had that come from?_

Josef clears his head by scanning the room for Mick. He's still far away, tailing his mark and Josef prays he'll nail the guy so they can leave this place like it's on fire and never, ever have to think about it again. Not for the first time, he knows he needs a _real_ drink. He throws back the scotch and winces. It's fouler than his mood.

From the corner of his eye, he sees yet another woman approaching the boy. She's wearing a dress so tight, her chest looks as if it might completely slip free of its own free will, which he supposes, was probably her intention. She smiles at the boy as if she's the shark and he's the chum. Kneeling down, so that the errant cleavage is right in front of his watery gaze, she coos, "Well, hello, little boy."

Logan looks up and raises an eyebrow, fighting to uncross his eyes. "Hello," he answers coldly.

"Are you here with your mommy and daddy?" The way her tongue juts out on the word 'daddy' makes Josef realizes that she knows exactly who this kid is. And who he belongs to. She runs a red lacquered finger tip up his arm and over his chest.

He turns away, not wanting to answer, but she runs the finger up under his chin and lifts it to her. "Yes," he squeaks and looks away, but not all that surprised at her actions.

She chuckles softly, leaning into his ear, "Well, I see where you get all your good looks. Your father is quite the charmer. I bet you must take after him."

In a move so quick that not even Josef can see it, he turns on her, fixing her in a stone-cold glare. "Yes, he's very fond of snakes." The words are slurred, but the intention is not.

She tightens her grip on his arm and a look of pain flashes across his face.

Before he can register what he's doing, Josef is at the boy's side, pulling the blonde away. "Hey," he snips, "the line for the wretched coke-whore's bathroom has finally cleared. I think you really should get freshened up. You look absolutely awful."

Like a caged lion, she bares her teeth, "What did you say?"

"I think I called you a 45-year old pedophile trying to go for the 15-year old skank look. Really," he flips over the spaghetti strap of her dress and smiles, "you should never wear red, it only makes you look even trampier. I think perhaps you should stick with a VD green. Much more your color."

Her eyes narrow, and she is ready for a fight. Fortunately, so is Josef. And he knows who will win.

One look from him is all it takes. One look at the beast he keeps locked away most days and only lets out to play when he's feeling particularly nasty. Her face turns to ashen white and she rushes through the crowd, nearly toppling people in her haste to get away from the monster he knows he truly is.

Josef can feel the boy watching him at his side, but he refuses to look down. Looking at him would be admitting that maybe, just maybe, he doesn't hate children as much as he thought he did. Well, maybe he didn't hate _this_ kid. Maybe because this kid was just too damn much like him to hate. And maybe, he felt something else about this kid that he didn't and couldn't admit. Not yet. Maybe never.

As he begins to walk away, he hears Logan struggle out a weak, "thanks," before sliding down the wall and passing out.

Josef doesn't turn around. He just keeps going.

And maybe, that's for the best. Well, that's what he tells himself anyway.


	2. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth wants to know why Josef is on the news for the murder of someone in Neptune, California named Lily Kane. Josef would like to know why, too.

Josef Kostan hates surprise. Even after 400 years, they are rarely pleasant. It's one of the reasons he likes to obsess over stock prices and news reports. Generally, there are no real surprises there. Very little about the daily rumble of humanity has changed in four centuries.

Except when Beth Turner calls. Then, he knows he's usually in for a very pleasant surprise.

"Blondie," he says with faked brightness, but also a smidge of real warmth. "Always a pleasure to hear from you. What are you calling to accuse me of today? Or have you finally got bored waiting on Mr. Right to take matters into his own hands, so to speak?" He leans back into his leather desk chair and tries to fight from smiling into the phone. It's been a long time since he had a good sparring partner and Beth was a formidable opponent. Almost better than Mick.

She's not taking the bait today, but he can hear her erratic breathing and racing heartbeat through the tiny digital filter of the phone. It's not panic, but it's not calm. Her continued silence told him that something about his little quip was a bit too close for comfort. When at last she does speak, her voice is cautionary. "Why are you being accused of murdering some kid down in Neptune?"

The sheer absurdity of what she has said causes him to laugh loudly. "What?" He coughs out. "Is this some sort of joke. Did I miss the memo about it being prank-your-boyfriend's-friend day? Is Mick still mad about last weekend? I mean, I told him that bastard Antonio was stealing from me, what did he expect?"

"No, Josef." There is a fair amount of disgust present in her voice. But there is also worry. "Why are you on the news?"

"I'm n–," he suddenly glances over to his bank of TV screens and reaches for his remote. He turns the sound up on the one showing local news. Images of crowds, police tape, a scared-looking blonde girl, a Latino kid, all flash around in some sort of disjointed storyline. Then, he sees it. The face and a name that has haunted the deepest, darkest corner spaces of his subconscious for close to seven years. He speaks into the phone absently as if reassuring himself. "I'm not in Neptune, Beth. I'm right here in my office. So, unless vamps have the capability to teleport that I wasn't told about, that cannot possibly be me." He can't stop staring at the screen, barely notices the fact that he's still holding the phone.

"I'm coming over," she states, cutting through the swirl of his emotions.

"Why, to check up on me? To make sure I'm really here and not off murdering someone?"

"Yes."

For a moment, Josef smiles wanly. This girl is honest to a fault, and stubborn as a mule. "Fine, if you feel that you cannot live without seeing me. Bring Mick. We'll make it a threesome."

She is silent again, and if it wasn't for the strange pacing of her breath, he would have sworn she hung up. "What is going on?" She says quietly.

Josef stares back down at the screen. At the face. The eyes. God, how could he have ever forgotten about those eyes? "I don't know, Beth. But it's not me." He tries to sound convincing, but he fails.

The phone disconnects, and he turns up the volume louder.

_"...into custody. Police are confirming that Aaron Echolls will be charged with at least two counts of aggravated battery, possible statutory rape, and possibly even homicide for the murder of software giant, Jake Kane's daughter, Lilly, and will likely not get bail. Currently, he is under going surgery and will likely remain under police custody at Neptune Memorial until he released by his doctors. Fans around the world are in shocked silence as news of Aaron's accident and arrest broke just a few hours ago. His son, Logan, is also in police custody for an unrelated manslaughter charge. We are yet unsure whether the two events happened simultaneously or in correlation. We will keep you posted as new developments in the story occur. Back to you."_

The camera cuts to the news studio, and a plastic red-haired reporter begins speaking.

_"Thank you, Brian. Man, the Echoll's family just keeps getting crazier and crazier. Do you think they will be looking farther into Lynn's suicide now that both her husband and her son are being charged with these sort of heinous crimes?"_

It cuts back again to the other plastic, slightly-graying reporter on the steps of the Neptune Sheriff's station.

_"I don't know, Genna. Probably too early to say. The earliest reports of Aaron's arrest though, were saying that the girl he assaulted was dating his son at the time. It is also believed that she was attacked by Aaron for possession of some sort of video evidence that he slept with Lilly Kane who was brutally murdered last year. At the time, Lilly was also dating his son."_

The camera cuts just in time to see the completely faked look of shock on the red-head's face.

 _"That is just horrible. What a tragic story."_ She goes silent, unable to vocalize her thoughts. She even includes the customary slow head shake.

Josef turns the volume back down, and places his head on his steepled fingers. He sighs and closes his eyes, as the memories from that party replay on repeat. When Beth and Mick arrive, he still hasn't moved.

"Josef?" Mick asks, a touch of tenderness to his voice.

Looking up without really seeing either of them, he says, "Mick and Beth, I want you to go to Neptune and figure this out. Definitely bad for business. The last thing I need is my investors freaking out because I've been arrested for a murder I didn't commit. I mean, if they are going to think that, they should at least be worried about all the people I have actually killed." Josef places a knowing look at Mick, one he's sure he'll get. Vamps can't afford publicity like this. Far too many questions will be asked. "I'll call Ryder and Logan and have them get you the facts of the case."

"What do you want us to do?" Mick asks darkly, staring at his friend's emotionless face.

Josef startles a bit at the implications of his tone and finally looks Mick in the eye. "I just want to know what is going on. That's all. Maybe it's nothing, maybe it's one of those sick jokes the universe likes to play." He's starting to feel a bit queasy and wonders how long it's been since he's fed. It's not like him to forget something that important. He makes a mental note to have his freshies put on to a schedule for the immediate future.

Beth frowns and says, "Sick jokes?"

"Yeah," Josef says, turning to her with only a hint of a smile, "like how everyone on the planet supposedly has a double, an evil twin, out there somewhere." He waves his hand in an encompassing gesture. "Apparently mine is some bratty teenager who likes to get in fights and waste daddy's money. I guess that almost makes me the good twin. Who knew?" The smile grows, then falls again. "Or maybe this is some sort of twisted revenge scheme. Just check it out for me, okay? I'll pay for whatever you need." He can hear the desperation tinging his voice, and the queasiness comes back ten-fold.

"Joseph–," she says, then stops herself, looking up to Mick, before setting her worried gaze back to his. Who knew she was actually concerned about him? What was that about? Did she really think they were friends now? Josef swallows air, and forces himself to look away. He reminds himself that he doesn't have human 'friends'. They are a liability. A deadly liability.

Mick sighs. "We'll leave tonight and keep you informed." He makes no movement toward the door, instead, he turns to Beth and whispers softly. "Could you just give us a minute, Beth." His eyes and voice are sad and sincere.

Against her nature, she nods and exits the office.

Mick approaches Josef's large, tidy desk and stands over him, looking frustrated. Josef pushes back his chair and stands. "What is it?" He snaps.

"Are you going to tell me what is really going on?" Mick asks, watching his friend pace around in front of the floor to ceiling glass window of his office.

Josef turns to look out the window over the city. _My city, this is my city,_ he thinks, not even sure why. "What do you want me to say? I really have no idea why some kid looks like me. It's not like I have some sort of long-lost son or something. You know as well as I do that's not possible." Josef keeps his gaze earnest and his posture controlled.

Nodding, Mick leans against Josef's desk. "Yeah, I know. Do you know this kid, though? Or his family? I need a place to start. There has to be some sort of connection, right?"

Josef runs his hand through his hair and rubs his shoulder. He shrugs. "Honestly, I don't know. I have never met Aaron, and I don't know Lynn. Other than that..." He lifts his hands upward, palms open. "Isn't that why you're the detective?"

"I detect that you're hiding something, Josef. That's what I detect." Mick raises his head and sees that Josef's tall form momentarily loses some of its confident posture.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Mick leans forward, peering closely. Josef can see the flecks of blue in his friends grey eyes. It's a bit unnerving, and probably why Mick is so damn good at his job. "You've never met that kid before?"

The slight shifting away of Josef's own dark eyes tells him all he needs to know.

"You did too." Josef says, catching Mick off-guard. "At one of those so-called 'charity' events held by the Hollywood elite, about seven years ago. He was just a little kid, drinking in the corner. You were after some sort of embezzler or whatever, and he was there with his folks."

The memory washes over Mick. "Yeah...yeah! I knew something was off about that kid. He was totally wasted and nobody seemed to care. I remember wanting to kill his dad." Mick smiles grimly as he looks up at his friend, the realization of what he said hitting home. Josef turns his back to him again, looking out the window. "Wait. Why do you remember it?"

 _Because it's hard to look at your own soul reflected back at you and not be a little bit affected?_ Josef thinks bitterly. He offers Mick no further explanation, and Mick doesn't press it.

"Don't worry, Josef. We'll figure this out." In silence, he leaves.

Josef continues to stare out the window into the night over his city. In the background, the news drones on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	3. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth and Mick travel to LA and learn more about Logan

Beth Turner hates silence. It was too full of indecision and unclaimed possibilities. She really hates it when Mick is silent.

The whole drive to Neptune, Mick is silent. Anger simmers in Beth, waiting for the opportunity to spill out. As they pull off the PCH and head toward the business district in the little coastal town of Neptune, her pot finally erupts.

"Okay! Are you going to tell me what we're doing here, or am I just going to have to go and figure it out on my own. You know, my old contacts at Buzzwire would love a story like this..."

Mick turns to her quickly, in turmoil. "Beth, you cant'–!"

She waves him off. "Of course not. But you better talk! What the hell is going on?"

Mick shakes his head, turning his car into the hotel parking lot. A sign on the outside of the tall building proudly exclaiming it as the Neptune Grand. He looks at her sadly. "I'm really not sure. Josef didn't know anything. I don't even know where to start, really. I mean, the kid's not a vamp, he's human. He can't be Josef's kid, we can't reproduce. Other than a very uncanny coincidence, I don't know what else to look for." He kills the engine and remains there, staring at the lonely sea of cars.

Beth sighs and unfastens her seat belt. She exits the car and then turns back, hands on the window frame, her hair spilling in waves over her outstretched arms. "Well, come on, then. Let's go see what Ryder and Logan have dug up for us."

After settling in on the fluffy king-sized bed and starting up her laptop, Beth at last relaxes her anger towards Mick. He's staring down hard at his own laptop as if he could make it speak by glaring at it. She smiles and he looks up at her. His forehead unwrinkles and his eyes soften. "Not mad?"

She shakes her head and returns to pull up the files sent to her by Josef's tech-support vamps.

After what seems like hours, she looks up. Apparently Josef had told Ryder and Logan to be very thorough. Not only was the arrest report here, but all of the Echoll's boy's previous records, his medical history, even his school files. Because he was also quasi-famous, she also had a mountain of tabloid gossip to sort through as well. Looking to Mick, she moans. "This is like searching for a needle in the bottom of the ocean. Especially when I have no idea what kind of needle I'm even looking for." She scans the screen thoughtfully. "For such a young kid, it sure seems like he's got quite a colorful history."

Mick glances up at her. "What have you found?"

The laptop is set aside. "I'm not really sure. Troubled past? And apparently quite the lady's man." She raises her eyebrow at Mick suggestively.

Mick quirks a smile at her and shakes his head. "Josef would love that," he replies quietly.

"So what about you? You find anything in his medical records?" Beth slides off the bed and joins him on the leather sofa, placing her legs over his.

Unconsciously, he begins swirling his hand on her thigh. Still looking at the screen, he frowns. "I don't know. Nothing unusual about his birth records. Mother, Lynn Ellen Lester-Echolls, a classically-trained actress turned movie-of-the-week starlet. Father, Aaron Dean Echolls, action movie has-been, one time People's Sexiest Man Alive." He shudders for some reason before continuing. "Logan Peter Echolls, born May 3, 1988."

"Apparently his birth made national headlines," Beth interrupts. "He was on the cover of over 20 major newspapers only a week after he was born."

Mick nods, unsurprised. "But from all accounts here, it was a standard birth. Nothing odd or funny in the medical records. But-," he scans the laptop screen, pulling it closer, "this kid was in the hospital for bumps, bruises, and broken bones far more than he should have been." He looks up at Beth and she frowns.

"What does that mean?"

Mick sighs. It had been a very long time since his medical training, and that was mostly just used in the army as a medic. Still, it came in handy for a lot of PI jobs. Especially when he was dealing with battered spouses and their kids. Logan's medical record was consistent with a history of physical abuse. But there were no reports on file, and multiple trips to the ER in the same month was not proof of anything. But if he was abused, it might go a long way in explaining the kid's behavior in the intervening years. And his extreme dislike of Logan's father. "Nothing good," he replies.

He remembers that night with Josef. He remembers seeing Aaron in the middle of a crowd, mostly women, fawning over their praise and adoration. He remembers the strong desire to rip out that man's throat. At the time, he thought it was because he had abandoned his son to the questionable morals of a Hollywood party without so much as a glance. Now, he isn't sure if his vamp senses didn't pick something else up. He slides his hand over Beth's shoulder and pulls her closer.

"What are thinking about," she asks softly, nestling into his chest.

Taking a moment to gather his scattered thoughts, he runs his hand through her hair. He loved how it smelled. Sunshine, flowers, humanity. He cast his eyes at her face as she looked up with her bright blue eyes gleaming at him in love. "Beth, I want to help this kid. Not just for Josef."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Really? Why?"

He shakes his head. "I can't really explain it. I just feel like I need to."

She nods and smiles, rubbing her hand across his chest in little circles. _Her_ Mick. Thinking about how protective he was of kids made her chest go all fuzzy. For a vamp, he sure was a softy. "Okay. Where should we start?"

Mick bends down and kisses the top of her head, thankful she didn't put up a fight on this. On paper, Logan looked like any other spoiled rich kid with too much money and not enough rules. But Mick had seen him at that party. There was something so _Josef_ about the looks he was given off, it was uncanny. Old and world-weary. Knowing and judgmental. Mick trusted Josef more than any other vamp. Hell, he trusted Josef more than anyone, besides Beth. But Beth didn't have the relationship with Josef he had. She trusted him to keep Mick safe, but she didn't know Josef like he did. Josef was good at keeping himself and his emotions hidden. And if Logan truly was anything like him, he would be hard to get to as well. But worth it. Every bit of it.

"Well, since his mom is dead and his dad is incarcerated, is there anyone else that he's close to?" Mick asks, running his hand through her blond hair.

"He has an older sister, Trina, who lives in L.A., but they don't seem close. His last girlfriend was Lilly Kane, and she was killed. Murdered, too, apparently." Beth's brow furrows. Saying the facts out loud made her realize just how sad this kid's life was. _How awful to have no care about you,_ she thinks.

"Anyone else? Friends? A new girlfriend?"

Beth climbs off of Mick and the couch and goes back to the bed to grab her laptop. Mick joins her, but remains silent. She pulls up the tabloid papers she was trying to avoid and scans them quickly. "He likes to surf with some of his school buddies. Maybe one of them could help?"

Mick sits up and nods. "Who?"

"Um, well, there's Duncan Kane," she stops and frowns. "No, this one says they aren't speaking. Wonder why?" She types and pulls up a new gossip page. "Here. Logan hangs around with this, um, Richard Casablancas, Jr. almost all the time. Looks like they even share a police record for vandalism."

Suddenly, the incoming email tone chimes on her computer. "It's from Ryder." She reads it off to Mick. "He says that the police have released Logan after his lawyer's argued self-defense. It looks like all the charges might eventually be dropped. But the word out now is that his dad is going to be formally charged–for the murder of... Lilly Kane." She gasps, placing a hand over her mouth. "Oh god."

Mick stares at the news report and sighs. It was if his worst suspicions were coming true. "Tomorrow, we find this Casablancas kid and see what he'll tell us about Logan."

She nods, pushing the laptop away like it was a smelly piece of garbage. Her mind reeled at the host of new and horrible thoughts. _What had they gotten themselves into? And how was Josef involved?_

Leaning back into the bed, she pulls Mick with her as she wrapped herself in his strong, safe arms. Tonight, Beth didn't think she hates the silence quite so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	4. Good Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick proves that he does indeed live up to his name.

Dick Casablancas loves to have a good time. A party, surfing, hanging out and playing video games. Girls. Anything, as long as it was fun. And he was wasted.

But what was happening to his friend was anything but fun. Dick would have to change that. Logan was his best friend and coolest guy he knew, and he wouldn't let this mess get to him. Not if he could help it.

He opens the door to his house to find a large guy in a black trench and black henley and a very attractive blonde in a grey jacket and jeans. He flashes his most 'fuck, you're hot!' smile at the blonde and she tilts her head. "Richard Casablancas?" She asks sweetly. The man at her side is unreadable behind his sunglasses, but he shifts uncomfortably.

"Dick."

"Huh?" She frowns.

"The name's Dick, babe. Are you wanting to speak to my dad?" He leans against the frame of the door in what he hopes is a seductive manner. Of course it is, it's worked for him before.

"Um. No." She says dryly. Dick doesn't even notice the note of disgust in her voice. "I guess you are who we wanted to talk to. Do you mind if we come inside?"

Dick's mouth twists in a wicked grin. "I don't mind coming inside, if you don't?"

She flushes and the man at her side glares down at him. He shrugs and backs up, letting them pass into the shadow of the front foyer. "So what's this about? The Dickster's been a good boy. For now." He waggles his eyebrows in her direction.

She frowns again, looks up at the man standing next to her, and shakes her head. "Teenagers," she mumbles. "We want to talk to you about a friend of yours... Logan Echolls."

Dick's playfulness suddenly flies away as he stiffens. "No comment. If you're here for a story, you can just get the hell out of my house." He's eyes the guy in black a lot more warily.

She smiles brightly. "I'm not here about a story, Mr. Casablancas."

"Dick," he corrects her again, still on edge.

She lets the smile widen. "Oh, okay. Dick. Um, my name is Beth Turner. This is Mick St. John." She motions to the large dude standing behind her. "He's a P.I. out of Los Angeles, looking into a missing person's case. I'm with the D.A.'s office."

Something about that name fires off a memory, but he can't quite pull it forward. Dismissing it, he relaxes, and gestures for them to sit. He takes a seat on a large, expensive leather recliner, flopping down ungracefully with his legs hanging over the arms. Beth and Mick sit politely opposite him on a soft cushioned sofa. "What's a missing person's case have to do with Logan?"

All morning, Beth and Mick had discussed how best to approach getting close to Logan. They both thought that telling anyone anything close to the truth was far too risky, not only to Logan, but to Josef as well. They needed to get to know the kid first. It was Beth who came up with the idea to bait his friends by accusing him of even more crimes. Beth knew from her experience as a reporter that people tended to spill a lot more when they were trying to defend someone than when you offer to help.

"We believe that a young lady named Clara was seeing Mr. Echolls at the time of her disappearance. We would like to know if you have any information about him which could help us locate her." Beth states.

Dick could feel his face growing red. "Are you saying that Logan kidnapped some chick?"

Mick speaks for the first time, leaning forward with his arms on his knees. His tone is direct and firm. "This girl could be in serious trouble. Now, we know with Mr. Echolls past and his recent legal issues–."

"Whoa, dude! Hold up. Logan hasn't done nothin'. And he would never, _ever_ hurt some chick." Dick swung himself out of the chair. "Besides, he hasn't had eyes for anyone besides Ronnie for months. And he wouldn't cheat. It's not his thing."

"Ronnie?" Beth asks, suddenly alert.

" _Veronica_ Mars," he supplies, rolling his eyes like everybody should know this. "His girlfriend. He's, like, all obsessive crazy about her. Personally, I think she's just a succupine."

Beth chokes a little. "A what?"

Dick puffs up his chest as he crosses his arms. "You know, a succupine. Evil, soul destroying hag."

Beth gapes at Mick in disbelief as he struggles to force his face back into it's usual hard stare.

"Uh, okay." She concedes.

Dick starts to pace around the room, anger rising at the thought of his friend suffering. "And whatever you've heard in the news about Felix is a total lie, dude. Logan's not like that. He would never kill someone. Those freakin' PCHers beat the shit out of him and left him for dead. They're the ones who you should be checkin' out."

Beth and Mick stand. Mick's voice softens, "Dick we just want to make sure everyone is safe." He raises the sunglasses and looks the teen straight in the eye. To his credit, the shaggy-haired blond doesn't flinch. But his anger does subside.

"Good. But it wasn't Logan. He wouldn't harm some girl–not after Lilly. Not after his mom," Dick lowers his eyes and his voice gets softer.

Beth steps forward and pats his arm. "Thank you, Dick. You've been a real help and a good friend."

Dick flashes her a wicked smile one last time. "I'd like to be your friend. Actually, babe, I'd like it if we were more than friends." He waggles his eyebrow at her.

Letting herself be amused by his completely unselfconscious behavior, she laughs and drags a scowling Mick to the door. "Does that ever really work for you, Dick?" She sees him shrug and grin. "Freakin' teenagers," she says again, shaking her head.

Watching the two of them leave in a pretty sweet vintage Mercedes, Dick immediately phones Logan.

"Hey man. What's up? Looking to party? Cause if you are, I definitely in. Need to get the taste of prison food out of my mouth, if you know what I mean." Logan answers.

"Course, dude. Always. And guess what? I just met a killer blonde, definitely your taste." Dick smirks.

"Yeah? How killer?"

Dick can hear the amusement in Logan's voice. It has been way too long since it was there. A momentary indecision weighed on him. " _Deadly._ I think this one might be taken though. But she was super hot for an older chick. Lot's of 'tude. You know, she kinda totally looks like that chick on that website we used to fantasize about." His eyes roll back with the memory.

"Paris Hilton?"

"God, no! The chick with the rack that did all those crazy news stories." He can't actually remember the stories, but he remembers the rack.

"Um..." Logan pauses to think. He laughs as it comes to him. "Oh! You mean Beth Turner from Buzzwire?"

Dick pales. "Fuck! Seriously? Her name was Beth Turner? Fuck man! I knew it!"

Logan's tone sours. "What? What happened?"

"Dude, she totally lied to me. She told me she was with the D.A.'s office and she and this Matrix-looking dude were looking for some chick who you were seen with."

"Huh? Dick, you're making even less sense than usual. Did you let Beav buy your pot again?"

"No! Look, Beth Turner and some PI guy were just at my house asking questions about you and some missing chick. Um...her name was Sara or Clara or something. I don't know. They said you might have something to do with her disappearance."

"What did you tell them, Dick?" Logan's voice had gone cold and steely.

"Nothing, dude! I told them you would never hurt a girl and that you were totally wrapped around Ronnie's little finger anyway. They seemed to buy it. I just hope this wasn't some tabloid trick. You know how persistent those fuckers can be."

"Yeah. Did they say anything at all about my dad or Felix?"

"No, but I told them you had nothing to do with Felix's death." Dick swipes his hand across his bangs.

Logan is silent, clearly thinking. "I don't even know anyone named Sara or Clara. I haven't been with anyone but Veronica since that bitch, Caitlyn."

"Yeah, look man, I'm sorry." Dick paces the room again and nervously flips his hair.

"It's fine. I'll figure it out. Thanks for the heads up, though."

"Yeah," Dick mutters as Logan disconnects. He looks down at his feet. As if Logan's life couldn't get any worse. Now this? Logan needed to relax, de-stress. Have a good time. What he needed was a Casablancas-approved party. The bigger the better. Booze, girls,... some killer waves. All of Logan's favorite things. Dick grins, proud of himself and his brilliant ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	5. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica doesn't trust blonde reporters, even if they show up at her door with a super hot PI.

Veronica hates secrets. Well, she hates other people's secrets. She was perfectly fine with keeping a few of her own.

Logan is keeping secrets. Far too many secrets. She didn't like that Logan was keeping something from her, although with the way she treated him before she discovered the truth about Lilly and Aaron, she guessed she couldn't blame him. Was that why she was with him now? To make up for all her accusations and hurt? They hadn't really talked about it. He had shown up at her apartment that night and she had tended to him, and they just sort of fell back into it without too much being said. So was their relationship built on guilt and pity? She didn't think so. Guilt alone wouldn't explain the way she felt when they kissed. The fire, the fluttering in her chest, the way the world stopped around them. Nope. Definitely no explanation for that. And before all this mess over Lilly, she had really wanted to give this thing between them a try. She still does, but Logan's holding back from her. He's not letting her in. Constantly torn between wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt and wanting to just sit him down and force the secrets from him, thoughts of him are driving her crazy.

She yawns and thrashes around on her bed, kicking off her covers. _Too damn hot in here._ She tries to close her eyes and rest her mind, but every time she does, she smells gasoline and hears Aaron's voice. And if it that wasn’t bad enough, sometimes she also pictured her mother's anguished face as she kicked her out. Or Logan's desperate eyes the night she wiped away the blood and grit from the cuts on his face. With all that on a near endless loop, it wasn't any wonder that she hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep since it happened.

Tossing once more, she pulls up her comforter and readjusts her pillow. It was only just a little past nine at night, but she had decided to try to get in what rest she could. Tomorrow, she was supposed to go back to school to finish her exams, and she would definitely need all her strength to tackle that nightmare.

Unfortunately, her sleep, or lack thereof, was interrupted by a persistent knocking at the door. Dragging herself out of bed, she pads her way down the hallway to find Back-up cowering in a corner of the kitchen, hackles raised and ears forward. Furrowing her brow at the two shadowy figures framed by the glass of the doorway, she grabs her Taser and walks to the door. She's not exactly scared, a part of her realizes that if someone really wanted to harm her, they could have just broken the door in. _I mean, it's not exactly made of lead,_ she realizes abruptly _._ But she is very wary of anyone just "popping by" for a chat this late at night, especially after the week she's already had. Her best guess is that some over-eager paparazzi are trying to catch her off guard for an exclusive. For the tenth time, she contemplates hiring someone to make sure they leave her alone.

She looks over at Back-up again and wonders what is going on with his behavior. "And you call yourself a guard dog," she mumbles to him. He tilts his head at her and stalks quickly out of the kitchen. Veronica turns her focus back on the door. Calling out from several feet away from the door, she says, "Um, it's a little late for an exclusive. Why don't you try scheduling it with my secretary. I'll give you her number." She opens the door a fraction, the chain still firmly in place, and mimes pulling a business card out of her shirt, "it's 555-kiss-my-ass." She smiles and steps back, making as if to shut the door in their faces.

The man and the women on her doorstep look quite bemused. Actually, only the man looks intrigues, the woman wears a blank mask of friendly casualness like she's not impressed by Veronica's sharp wit and keen bedtime fashion sense. _Ah, well, can't please everybody._ As the man chuckles, Veronica narrows her eyes at him. Clearing his throat a little he addresses her. "Um, hello. You must be Veronica Mars."

Veronica looks them over, sizing them up. The blonde woman is attractive, dressed conservatively in a grey blazer and jeans, and doesn't immediately strike her as paparazzi, but she had an air of pushiness and curiosity that only reporters truly possessed. For some reason, she feels immediately jealous of her. The man, though, is more difficult to categorize. Very handsome, his broad frame and confident demeanor suggested law enforcement, but his long wavy hair and dark clothes were far too trendy and laid back. Plus, there was something else about him, something that speaks of a different era she just couldn't place. His expression reads friendly and open, but his grey eyes speak of something deeply hidden. This only fuels her curiosity. Maybe that's why she doesn't just tell them both they have the wrong address and to _please fuck off_.

She nods, but makes no move to allow them in.

The blonde woman opens her mouth, but the guy is who speaks first. "Veronica," his tone is cautious and gentle, "my name is Mick St. John. I'm a P.I. from LA" He flashes her his ID and she knows instantly that it's legit, after all, she's made enough fake ID's to go pro.

 _A P.I.?_ No wonder this guy has such a authoritative-yet-cool vibe. Dad would probably love him. A ghost of a smile traces over her lips before her thoughts immediately turn dark as she remembers that her dad is in the hospital. And _why_ her dad is in the hospital. She barely registers that Mick is still speaking to her, until she hears Logan's name.

"Huh?" She frowns.

"I said we're following up a lead on case related to Logan Echolls. We were told you and he were friends. I thought you might be able to help us out."

 _That's what I get for letting my guard down,_ she thinks sourly. "What do you want to know?" She growls.

"May we come in? I'd rather not have the paparazzi I had to chase off know what's going on."

She shrugs and raps her arms around her chest. "How many were there?"

He looks down at her, and sees her blue eyes dark with worry and sleep deprivation. "Not that many. Hopefully, I scared 'em off enough they won't try bothering you for at least another day or two." He says kindly.

She snorts. "Not likely. The paps in Neptune aren't quite as ruthless as in LA, but they are definitely part of the same gene pull of bottom feeding slime." She turns pointedly to the woman, hoping the meaning was clear.

Mick catches it and clears his throat. "Um, this is my friend, Beth Turner. She works for the D.A.'s office."

Veronica relaxes minusculely, but doesn't soften towards her. However, she does pick up on the intimate way they interact with each other and that puts her far more at ease than she would like to admit. _Definitely a couple. Married? No rings. Secret love affair? Too comfortable. Lovers? By George, I think you've got it, V._ She unlatches the chain and swings the door open for them. Mick smiles at her frown for some reason, before Beth turns to him and glares briefly. Quietly, they enter the apartment and set up shop on her lumpy couch.

"We're here because we believe Logan might be in danger," he begins almost immediately.

Veronica tries to not react like he just punched her in the stomach. She laughs instead. "Yeah. Seems to be the special this week. But I think he can manage. Unless there is something new." Her pointed gaze fixes on Mick, then on Beth. _Why would the LA D.A.'s office be interested in Logan?_

"Possibly. Look, all we want to do is talk with him."

She shakes her head decisively. "No way. Not until you tell me what is going on." She leans against the kitchen island which intrudes into the living room. It's a calculated move that she hopes make her look like she's confident and in charge.

The blonde, Beth, slides her large messenger bag onto her lap and rifles through it for some papers. "We think he might be involved in a case we're working on in LA. A missing person's case."

Shifting uncomfortably, Veronica leans forward and takes the offered paper. It's a photo of a young, nondescript brunette." She shakes her head. "Am I supposed to know who this is?"

"Her name is Clara. She was last seen at a party in LA, leaving the scene with Mr. Echolls. We just want to know what happened after they left."

Something's off. Veronica can't exactly place it, but everything feels off. When would Logan have time to go to a party in LA? Why would he have left with some chick? Well, that part made sense, but the rest of the story? She stiffens and gives the paper back to Beth. "I'll pass word along, and have him get back to you." Her tone is icy and tinged with anger. "Do you have a card or something?"

Beth and Mick exchange worried glances. Clearly, this is not going how they'd hoped. Mick opens his mouth to speak, when there is a knock at the front door.

Veronica rolls her eyes and mutters, "Come on! Does no one respect the concept of business hours any more?" But she moves to answer the door anyway.

But before she gets there, the door is pushed open. Back-up comes bounding in from his hideout in her room and practically leaps onto the tall figure there. "Hey boy!" Logan laughs, pushing the pit bull gently down and stepping into the apartment. He sees her standing against the counter in the kitchen and his body relaxes briefly, before sensing something's up and tensing again. "Hey," he says gently, as if he's seeking her permission before entering.

Across the room, Beth noticeably gasps. In pictures and video, Joseph and Logan look fairly similar, but here, in person, the likeness is downright disturbing. The exact same tall, broad-chested stance, the same sharp nose, soft cheeks, and intense brown eyes. Only the clothing choices and hairstyle are different, and the fact that Logan is clearly only a kid. She tries to recover with a quick cough. Mick on the other hand, has a completely different reaction. It's like a visceral kick in the balls. The looks Mick can deal with, but there is something buried deep in this kid that Mick's vamp reacts volatilely to. Completely unsettled, he can't stop staring, straining with the effort to keep his vamp side reigned in.

Logan turns sharply to look at the two strangers on Veronica's couch, while she studies the tenseness of the posture of her two guests. "Okay. Seriously? What is going on here?" She switches her attention back and forth to the couple on her couch and the confused look on Logan's face. No one makes a move. She puts her hands on her hips and glares at Mick. "Someone better answer, and it better be the truth this time."

"You're Beth Turner," Logan says suddenly. His expression is hard to read, but his lip is curled curiously.

"You know her?" Veronica accuses, narrowing her eyes at him.

His dark eyes flash wickedly and his face flushes. He shrugs. "What? She's on Buzzwire. You know how much I love those trashy tabloid programs." The sarcasm isn't lost on her and she rolls her eyes at him. He might as well as come right out and said he thinks she's hot and he only watches that stupid tabloid rag because he wants to bang her. He smiles knowingly at her as if he read her thoughts and steps in closer, even as she pulls away. "Dick told me they stopped by his house. Asking questions." He offers as a way of apologizing.

"Well, isn't that great." Veronica says, turning her focus back on the other blonde in the room. "I thought you were with the D.A.'s office. So, are you here to get your big break by getting the real story of the Echolls family? Hoping to be able to get that co-anchor spot next to Matt Walker on LA Tonight? I've got to hand it to you, though, the PI angle...not bad. Solid 'A' for the effort. Maybe next time, though, you should try for a more realistic cover."

Flushed with anger, Beth says, "I've been with the D.A.'s office for about three months. I don't work for Buzzwire and this is not about a story."

"Fine. But you aren't telling me the truth. That 'missing girl' story," she emphasizes with air quotes, "is pretty lame. Logan hasn't been to LA for ages."

"What?" Logan asks, clearly confused.

Mick, who is still working to regain his balance, clears his throat and stands up. "Fine, Veronica. You're right. We aren't here about that. We made it up." He shrugs, pulling back his erratically shifting emotions. "Sorry. We just wanted a chance to talk to Logan."

Both of the teens tense up and the change in Logan is striking. Gone is the playful little boy and in his place is a hardened man, world weary and on guard. For a moment, Mick totally forgets he isn't Josef. "Why?" Logan asks coolly.

Mick steps forward, right up to Logan and takes him in. Smells his unique scent, listens to the even, strong beating of his very human heart. Even though Mick is nearly double Logan's size and he could break him like a twig, Logan never drops his gaze or looks the least bit intimidated. If anything, he seems amused by the potential threat. Mick doubts this kid has ever backed down from a fight in his life. Veronica notices that strange look in Mick's eye again and wanders about him again, her curiosity momentarily outweighing her indignation. At last, Mick breathes out and steps back. "Logan. We're here because we want to offer you our help with your case."

"Is this some sort of crappy intervention? Am I being punk'd?" Logan chuckles mercilessly. "Who the hell are you?" He stands protectively in front of Veronica and hugs his left arm with his right hand. His jaw clenches. "Actually, you know what? I'm good. So thanks for the offer and all, but if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to my girlfriend alone. So, why don't you, like, get the fuck out."

Mick narrows his eyes and opens his mouth to reply, but suddenly Beth is tugging on his arm, pulling him away to the door. "Sure, no problem. Veronica, Logan, it was nice to meet you. I'm sorry we intruded on you at this hour." She digs into her messenger bag and produces a small business card which she hands off to Veronica. Logan is studying the hallway as if it is fascinating, but Beth doesn't miss the way his hands are tightly curled into a ball. "This has my number on it. If you should need us, we're at the Neptune Grand. I mean it. Call if there is a _nything_."

Veronica shrugs and tosses the card onto the island counter. "Nice to meet you, too. I'll _for sure_ call if we need your help with accusing someone of a bogus crime." The sarcasm drips from her lips like venom. She doesn't miss the quick wince she gets from the woman. The man, however, is still observing Logan like he wants to dissect him and Veronica tightens her grip around Logan's arm. "Goodnight." She says curtly, shutting the door on them.

Logan lets out a deep breath while simultaneously unclenching his fists. "What the hell was that all about?"

Veronica shrugs again and tries to shake of her apprehension. "I don't know, but I get the feeling it's not the last we'll see of them." Her mind already furiously working.

He pulls her into him, pressing her as close as he can without hurting her, and rests his head on top of hers. He doesn't say anything, though, just breathes her in and out, occasionally dropping a light kiss on her head. For about the millionth time, she is desperate to know what he is thinking, but can't bring herself to ask. Just before he lets her go, she thinks she hears him whisper, "I'm sorry." _What does he have to be sorry for?_ She wonders again about Logan's secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	6. Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weird in Neptune just keeps getting weirder.

Logan was everything and nothing like what Mick expected. Still uncomfortable with the feelings the kid brought out of him and unsure of what it means, he shifts his focus to the girlfriend.

Veronica. She was unexpected too. Sharp, smart and fierce. His favorite combination. Mick smiles lightly and pulls Beth over to him. She looks up at him curiously and says, "What?" But she's smiling like she knows the answer.

"We need to find out what Joseph wants us to do. I mean, it's already pretty weird that we're out here. I guess I was expecting..." he waves his hand vaguely "I don't know... I wasn't expecting that."

"Yeah." Beth nods. "He's so similar to Josef, you know, if Josef was an angsty teen with a really huge chip on his shoulder. But it's like he's got the same sort of... _presence_ , I guess," she says, mostly to herself. "And that girlfriend? Whoa. I didn't think they came that cynical until at least college." She smiles up at Mick, but he is lost in his own thoughts.

They slide into Mick's car and head back for the apartment. Lost in thought, neither one really says much on the rest of drive. Finally, as they pull into the parking lot of the Neptune Grand, Beth breaks the silence. "How is this possible, Mick? Could Josef have a son? I mean, you told me that vamps can't have kids."

"We can't."

"But, he's not like a kid. I mean," she sighs, searching for the right words. "I mean, when you have a kid, it's not like they are your freaking twin."

"Yeah. It's like Logan is Josef's clone. Well, a clone with bleach-blond spikes and questionable fashion sense."

Beth's eyes go wide.

"No, I don't think Josef tried to clone himself," he counters quickly. "I mean, I know he loves himself, but not enough to duplicate himself, even if it was possible." Mick smiles.

Beth collapses and frowns. "Yeah. But what then? Random chance? The looks maybe could be explained, but the personality? That's just-."

Mick nods. He leads Beth through the hotel lobby, which is surprisingly busy for as late at night as it is. As they step onto the elevator, a statuesque, woman with long, dark hair slides inside at the last minute and pushes a button for the top floor. A solitary streak of grey courses down the front of her part, ending just below her shoulder blade, the only real indication of her age. Her satiny, red dress hugs so tightly to her body, Beth can see the indent of her belly button. The woman glances at the couple, dark almond eyes lingering over Mick for far too long, and smiles wickedly. Mick tries to hide his laughter at the daggers Beth throws at the woman. When the door for their floor opens, the woman leans forward and brushes against Mick's arm. Her perfume is a strange mix of darkly exotic spices he's not sure he's ever smelled before. It's undeniably captivating. She flashes him a small card and says seductively, "The name's Lana. If you get bored with your appetizer, and decide you'd like to try the main course _,_ you're welcome to give me a call." She winks and the door slides closed between them before Mick can respond. A small shiver runs through him and he is unsure why. Maybe it was the way she offered herself to him or the way she looked at him. But a cold, sick dread settles into his stomach. Mick glances at the card, and stares at the elevator door far long than he should have.

"You're joking!" Beth shouts angrily.

He's so fixated on what is written on the card, he momentarily forgets about Beth. In tiny, perfectly formed script, it reads: _Lana Montgomery. 909-555-0101_. Nothing else. He shivers again, and tries to pull himself out of it.

Beth has already stormed off for the room, and Mick hurries to catch up with her. He pushes the door open with one hand and sees her furiously throwing her things into her suitcase.

"Beth, stop." He says gently. Her grip on her dress shirt is tight enough to leave permanent wrinkles, but she doesn't look up. He moves towards her, slowly. "Please. I'm sorry. It's not what you think."

He can hear the way her heart rate settles and the hitch in her breathing. He knows she's listening. Upset, but listening. "I'm sorry, it didn't mean anything. She just caught me off guard." He offers again, this time pulling her into his arms and wrapping her up tight.

One of the things that Mick actually enjoys about being a vampire is that he can feel the moment Beth forgives him throughout his entire body. It starts with a small, whispered sigh, which to him feels as if she has breathed herself onto his soul. Then, the fight goes out of her muscles and her whole body becomes soft and pliable. It's the most glorious thing he's ever felt.

She looks up at him, her blue eyes stunningly sharp from the unshed tears. "What happened then?"

"I don't know," he's says as honestly as he can. "Something felt off about the whole thing. But I swear to you, it's nothing. Okay?"

Her breathing has gone back to its normal baseline and she hugs him tighter. "Yeah. Okay." Miraculously, she drops the subject, choosing to believe him. "You should call Josef. I'm going to get the ice."

She tosses him a look, as he takes out his phone, and grabs the ice bucket by the bed. He watches her go and kept help the smile playing about his face. It's the small things she does for him, like knowing he needs a tub full of ice to be comfortable, that make his heart swell with love for this frail, perfect blonde.

He sighs and dials Josef's number. It's answered on the second ring, telling Mick that Josef has probably been driving himself crazy waiting for news. "Well, do I need to start looking at the real estate in Sri Lanka or do you have some good news to report." Josef says.

Mick can hear the worry behind the sarcasm and so he doesn't waste any time. "I don't think you need to worry about packing just yet. But things are definitely getting interesting down here."

"Interesting like Brittany shaving her head or interesting like all of my Tokyo competitors being wiped out by a tsunami?"

"Try 'aliens bringing Elvis back from the dead'."

"Ah. Should I grab my camera for a photo op?"

Mick hesitates. He knows Josef wants to come check out the kid for himself, but the icy, suspicious reception he and Beth received didn't bode well for any sort of 'family bonding,' if that was what this was about. Especially not with Josef's ego in the mix. "Um, I think you should stick to covering the business section for now."

"Sure, whatever," he responds indifferently, but Mick could swear he can hear a twinge of disappointment.

"Hey, I don't think there's much here that will affect you. I mean. It's really pretty straight forward. Except for the whole doppelganger thing. That's...um...unusual. But the kid doesn't know anything. And this mess he's in...it's probably going to blow over within a week. I think you can rest easy knowing your billions are safe."

Josef hesitates before answering. "Okay. Great. You and Beth come on back then if you think this will just all fade away."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mick knows he needs to proceed carefully. "Look, Josef. Here's the thing. Truth is, I don't really know what is going on. The kid's a dead ringer for you. And then there's this _vibe_ he gives off. Not a scent exactly, but a _feeling_. I've never experienced anything like it. The vamp in me almost wanted to rip the kid’s throat out for no reason." Mick shakes his head, still working through the scattered state of his emotions.

"Why Mick, how unlike you?" Josef quips, but Mick can hear the fear in his voice.

"Tell me about it. I talked it over with Beth and we think it's best if we stay here and investigate. She's already given Talbot some lame excuse about a dead relative. But I think you need to keep the hell away from this one. I don't know how any of this is possible and it totally freaks me out. Is there anything you haven't told me? Do you know of any way this could happen?"

There's a long, pregnant pause and Mick is absolutely certain Josef is going to drop some sort of bomb on him like _Surprise Mick! Vamps can have kids after all!_ That's probably why it takes him a minute to process what Josef actually says.

"Um, magic?" He laughs lightly, but there is an undercurrent of sincerity to it that has Mick questioning his sanity.

"Are you serious?"

"No. Well, not entirely. But, hey man, we're vampires. It's not completely outside the realm of possibility. I've seen some pretty unbelievable stuff, you know."

"Magic though? Like 'pull a rabbit out of a hat' or more like 'fairies and pixie dust'?"

Josef actually laughs at that. "No!" He wheezes for a second before reigning himself in. "Think witches."

And just like that, Mick's stomach turns again. "Witches? You think...really?"

"Yeah. They can do some pretty heavy-duty tricks, man."

"Really? Fuck."

Josef chortles again. "Look, I'm not saying it is that. I'm just saying it is possible. As possible as any other option."

Mick takes a deep breath, before asking his next question. "Tell me why witches would make a clone of you then?"

"My devastatingly handsome looks? Not enough of me to go around?"

"Be serious."

"I make a lot of enemies. Who knows? I don't recall purposely trying to piss any witches off, but..."

"Great. Just great. Are you sure this isn't some weird vamp thing? Like the plant Coraline used to become human? Maybe there's something that takes your DNA or whatever and grows a whole new you. A way for vamps to reproduce after all."

Mick can hear Josef's shudder over the phone. "God, I hope not. One of me is more than enough for this world. Can you just imagine me having to do a hostile take-over with myself? We'd burn the corporate world to ash."

"I doubt it would be _just_ the corporate world." Mick replies grimly.

Josef sighs. "Fine. You and Beth stay there as long as you need to, but just deal with it. And keep me informed if you think that some young upstart is going to make a play for my money."

Mick smiles, despite himself. "Sure. Will do." And hangs up the phone.

Meanwhile, Beth has made about ten trips to the ice machine, which thankfully was only about two doors down, and now has the tub semi-full of ice. "What did he say?" She asks.

Mick grabs her around her waist playfully and growls into her ear. "Can you imagine a world with two Josef's in it? Scary." He fake shivers.

She slaps at him. "Don't change the subject."

Mick lets her lean back a bit and he studies the way her cheeks are flushing and her eyes are raking over his chest. "He suggested magic."

She struggles and squirms. "I mean it. Stop changing the-."

"No, that's really what he said. Witches using magic."

She smiles and swats at him. "Really? You might as well say Logan was hatched from an egg. My money is on a group of scientists in an underground lair in the desert using vampire DNA to clone a race of super soldiers."

Mick is stunned. "Wow. You've really thought about this."

She laughs and throws her head back. "No, but I have watched a lot of bad sic fi thrillers."

He nuzzles her gently.

"Witches." She shakes her head in disbelief. Pulling herself in closer to him, she rests her head against his shoulder and breathes him in. "Just when I thought I had a handle on the whole vampire thing..."

"I think he was probably just joking. He seems pretty freaked out. Well, as freaked out as Josef gets." He swings her around until the both end up lying on the bed.

As he begins to run his hands down her body and kiss at her neck, she pushes back briefly, "So what are we supposed to do? Hunt down the local coven in Neptune and ask them why they created Kostanstein's monster?"

Mick actually snorts against the side of her neck. "No. I think for now, we just keep an eye on the kid and help get this whole murder thing resolved so he stays out of the news."

"So...babysitting, then?"

"Mmmhmmm," he growls into her chest, slowly peeling away the cottony fabric from her skin. "Yep. An easy job for once. I mean, how much trouble can the kid get into? Maybe we can turn this into a vacation after all. And Uncle Josef's footing the bill. Maybe I'll take you out on the town one of these nights, really go crazy."

Her eyes flash dangerously dark at him. "Mmhmm. Or maybe we could just stay in." She replies, and deftly removes his belt. So soft he almost misses it, she whispers into his ear, "You know, your ice is going to melt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	7. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Veronica get a little help spying on the two strangers in town from a certain computer hacker.

"Come on, Veronica. What are we doing?" Logan asks in that petulant 5-year-old way that only he can.

She rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head. _This again?_ "I told you. We need to find out more about those two." She was almost to the car door of his X-terra before he grabbed her by the arm.

"Stop, Veronica! You don't need to do this. We've got enough to worry about as it is." He tries to stare her down with those dark, hazel eyes of his, but she isn't moved. Instead, she tries not to notice how the early afternoon sunlight is turning the fading highlights in his hair into a rich, coppery gold. It's not any easier to forget about the greenish-yellow bruises dotted across his forehead and cheekbones, or the jagged, pink cuts just below his hairline. She opts for looking at his shoes. That seems neutral enough.

"I _know_ that. Don't you think I don't? But I really don't want any more surprises. I need to find out what they are here for." She shrugs off his hand from her arm and points at him. "I thought you'd be more suspicious. I mean, they came here falsely accusing you of a kidnaping."

His jaw tenses. "I know. Add it to the list."

Still worked up, she continues, "And then they claim to just want to help? What's with that? I need to find out what they are up to."

He gives a little and sighs. "Look, I'm not saying I trust them. Actually, I'm pretty sure I feel the opposite of that. Incertitude maybe? Dubiosity? Skepticism? All I do know is that if there is any sort of danger involved, I don't want you to go poking around."

Deep, _deep_ down, she knows he means well, but he's made her angry and she feels a little like lashing out. She wishes she knew why it was so much easier for her to yell at him than to be just sigh and say O _kay, honey, I'll play nice_. Maybe the fighting is all their relationship really is. "You don't want me poking around? Really? But you wanted me to help you out of your little snafu with the police a few days ago. That's what you want? For me to help you out when it's convenient for you? A little PI whore at your beck and call?"

"Dammit, Ronnie! That's not what this is about." His eyes burn into hers and she's thankful he's no longer holding onto her arm. It would probably burn as well. There's at least a minute of silence from him as he studies her expression and formulates his approach. She's ready for a verbal blow-up from him at the least.

Unexpectedly, his whole body just collapses. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell you what you can and can't do. I just thought," he sighs deeply and runs his hand through his hair, spinning away from her, so that she barely hears what he says next, "I just thought that with everything else, you were owed a little peace and quiet. You've got exams to finish and your dad's still in the hospital. And now this? I hate that I got you involved with my crap. With my family's crap. You know I have a huge target on my back because of this Felix thing, right?" He mimes pulling a bow and arrow and shooting it right into his heart. He drops his eyes to the ground and mutters, "You've been through too much. You deserve better than this."

 _Who is this Logan standing in front of her and what did he do with the sarcastic jackass he's been all year?_ It's such a tender and honest sentiment, the fight drains right out of her. "Oh, Logan," she sighs, and places her hand gently on his arm, so that he turns back to her. "This crap you're in is mine, too. You can't protect me from it. I'm a target too because of what happened with Aaron, and I did that all on my own. So don't you dare feel bad about that! What he did..." she gulps, unsure whether she can or even should continue, "...what he did to Lilly... to you...it is _not_ your fault."

Underneath her hand, she can feel the way his arm trembles and she knows how much guilt he has racked up against himself. "Logan, I know I've said this before, but I am truly sorry about what happened to you. And what I did. You didn't deserve-"

He stops her with a kiss. Hard, passionate, fiery. And all the guilt and fear and insecurity goes away. She's breathing hard, panting against his firm chest, when he breaks away. Stroking her hand in the softest of gestures, he says, "Fine. We'll do it your way."

She knows he can see the contented look in her eyes, and she makes no move to hide it from him. "Good," she replies.

...

"Hello, Mrs. Mackenzie. Is Mac home?"

The middle-aged housewife who answers the door smiles down at Veronica pleasantly. Then, she looks at Logan and her face falls, as if trying to place where she knows him from. A second later, she recovers and smiles politely at the young man on her doorstep. "Sure, Veronica. She's in her room." Veronica is thankful that Mac's parents aren't the news obsessed type, and vaguely she remembers that Mac and her family had been out of town all last weekend, camping, and have missed the shocking events that come with living on a gateway to Hell. Either that or they are choosing to ignore them to be polite. Probably the latter.

As they approach Mac's room, she can hear upbeat techno music blasting behind the door. Veronica glances at Logan who looks bemused and thoughtful, studying the family photos on the hallway wall. She pulls him forward before his thoughts can stray into dark and dangerous territories, and knocks on Mac's door.

One look at Veronica and Mac's eyes go wide. "Veronica? What are you doing here?" She hisses, pulling both of them inside her room and securing the door. She suddenly seems to notice Logan and her mouth actually hangs open before rapidly covering her pj'ed self with her arms. "Why is he here? At my house? Did I win the school's "Awkward Date with a Psychotic 09er" Award or something?"

Logan stares at the strange, blue haired girl for a beat before a huge grin spreads out across his face. "Not unless you fight Ronnie for it. Actually that's a good idea. Go ahead," he waves an arm towards them before affecting a casual pose against the far wall, "whenever you’re ready. Do you want me to referee or anything?"

Mac stares blankly at Logan, completely unsure what to say.

Veronica glares at him and holds up a hand. "Look, Mac, I need your computer _kung fu._ I need to crack into some security footage from the Neptune Grand."

"Oh. Okay." She nods, looking relieved. For the first time, she seems to notice the slight bruises covering Veronica's arms and face and the similar ones on Logan and makes a point to look elsewhere. She had only talked to Veronica briefly since the whole 'Aaron' thing, and the reality of it all is just now setting in. "Hey, how are you, by the way? I haven't gotten a chance to ask you since..."

Veronica shrugs. "Fine. Little bit crispy around the edges. But it's over, you know. Well, I mean, until the trial." She doesn't know why she's telling Mac this, especially with Logan standing there staring at her like she's made of eggshells. "I'm just glad I finally know the truth, as awful as that actually is." She can't bring herself to look at Logan's face, because if she does, she knows he'll see right through her and she doesn't think she can handle it.

"Okay," Mac offers. She fumbles around, also avoiding Logan's intense stare, because what on earth could she possibly say to _him_ , and heads for her desk with the pile of random computer equipment, cords, and various blinking boxes. "What exactly do you need me to do?"

Veronica takes a breath and smiles. This. This is why she loves Mac. No awkward hugs, no false pity, no ' _Do you want to talk about it?'_ Just down to business. "I need you to hack into the feed to the Grand's security cameras for the last couple of days. We're trying to get some intel on a couple that's staying there."

Mac nods. "Sure. Probably take me about an hour or so, depending on how secure their system is. You can, um, just-," she looks around at the state of her disorganized room, "wait here. I guess."

Logan's demeanor changes again as he nonchalantly hops on top of Mac's _Firefly_ bedspread and smiles at her sincerely. He pats the corner with his hand and flashes Veronica a wicked smirk. "Come on, snookums, Mac's bed is super comfy."

Even though her head is spinning from the crazy way he shifts personalities, she's pretty grateful for the way he is making Mac feel less embarrassed about her room. She joins him on the bed, but resists the urge to snuggle into his side. After all, they have an audience.

Veronica ends up spending the time trying not to hover over Mac as her fingers fly over the keyboard and crazy blurred lines of code flash across the screen. She also tries not to watch Logan as he randomly picks up knickknacks around Mac's room and throws them in the air as if testing their weight, before stilling to exam the wall of geek chick posters. If she's honest, she's surprised he managed to sit patiently for as long as he did. She can tell he's not bored exactly, but his patience is wearing thin, and she can see by the way his mouth presses together in a thin line that his earlier thoughts are starting to drift back in. She wants to stop him, but there's not anything much she can say or do with Mac in the room. She also really hates how she knows exactly what he is thinking, almost as if they share a direct line into one another's thoughts. Domesticity never sits well with him for long. Especially now.

"Okay. You're in." Mac says, showing her the computer monitor where the screen is filled with black and white footage of the Grand's hotel lobby, elevator, front entrance, and staff entrance.

Veronica squeals a little, causing Logan to chuckle at her, and hugs Mac. Mac stiffens and pats her arm awkwardly. "Ohhhkaay? Um, you're welcome?" She slides out of Veronica's reach and allows her to sit at the desk chair. Logan steps over and peers at the screen where Veronica is scanning through the recorded video.

He tilts his head at Mac. "So, you do this a lot?"

Mac frowns. "What? Girl hugs? No."

He shakes his head. "The computer stuff, Steve Jobs. What are you? CIA, FBI, SSS?"

"SSS?"

Logan's lips curl into a smile, "Short and super smart."

Mac blinks and then, suddenly she's smiling, too. "Did you just compliment me?"

"Compliments? Me?" He affects an innocent face and points an accusatory finger at her. "You can't prove anything and I'll deny it to my grave."

She blushes and turns back to watch Veronica's progress. This is a side of Logan she has never _ever_ seen and it's causing her to question her tightly held beliefs that 09ers were all selfish assholes. _Okay, so maybe this is what Veronica sees in him._

"Yahtzee!" Veronica exclaims, having been completely oblivious to the exchange going on behind her. She points to the right corner of the screen that shows the elevator feed. Inside, the dark haired PI and his blond friend are riding in the car. Another passenger, a typical, black-haired call girl judging by her skin tight dress, rides in front. "So, they were at least telling the truth about staying at the Grand." She says, slowly forwarding the video. She sees the doors open and the blonde exits. Mick is following but is stopped by the other woman. "Well, well." She states. "And I thought he and Beth seemed sort of...couple-y...but it looks like he's trying to score with that 'bimbo of the week'."

She looks up at Mac who just shrugs impassively. But then she sees Logan and her body goes cold.

He's standing there, eyes wide, and hugging himself. Almost the same as when he showed up at her door looking to find his mother. He blinks rapidly, as if pulling himself up out of water.

"Logan?" Veronica says softly. "What is it?"

"Well, looks like it’s a true Echoll's family reunion after all."

Whirling back to the screen, she points to the lady Mick is talking to. "Wait! You know that woman?"

Shivering slightly, Logan nods. "She's my...she's Aaron's first wife."

"Why is she talking to Mick and Beth?"

Logan frowns, and shrugs his arms around him.

"What aren't you telling me?" Veronica asks, but he fails to look her in the eye. He's shut off again, and she's starting to get annoyed.

Realizing she won't get Logan to talk, especially not in front of Mac, Veronica decides to finish watching the video. She watches Mick's interaction with the woman carefully, watches her hand him a card. _Is she propositioning him? Slipping him information? I need to find out what is going on._ Then, she sees Beth. Sees Beth fuming and angry. Veronica smiles. _That is a look of a woman scorned. Perfect_.

"Come on, Logan." She says, pushing him toward the door, noticing uncomfortably how solid he is even when he looks like a strong wind might knock him down.

As he goes, she turns to Mac who looks confused and worried. "Hey, thanks for your help, Mac. I'll call you soon."

Veronica watches Logan shuffle out the door in a daze. Mac stops her before she can follow. "Are you really okay?'

She smiles brightly, hoping it looks as convincing as she's trying to make it. "Sure, you know me, I take a licking and keep on kicking ass."

This pulls a smile from a reluctant Mac, who then nods towards the door. "How about him? This whole thing is pretty messed up. I mean, I thought my situation was a big deal..." She goes silent. "I can't imagine."

Veronica sighs. "Yeah." She can't picture what's going through Logan's head right now either. She's not even sure she wants to. And then, like a ton of bricks, the weight of it all suddenly hits her again, almost knocking out her knees. Reaching over, she steadies herself on the side of the desk. _He was right, it's too much. And he needs too much from me._ _Damn it!_ Taking a deep breath, Veronica pulls herself upright before Mac notices her weakness. She can't back down, not now. _You are Veronica Mars! Logan needs your help and that is what you do! So, stop whining and go help him._

"Thanks again, Q." Veronica says softly, forcing the smile once more and reaching for the bedroom door.

"Anytime, Bond." Mac answers sincerely.

...

Logan is pacing around the driveway in front of his X-terra, looking like he's lost deep in thought. He doesn't even notice when Veronica slips his keys out of his hand and jumps up into the driver's seat. She honks the horn, causing him to jump and see her for the first time.

She leans over to the passenger window and shouts, "Get in, or I'm leaving you here," with a smile on her face. She's doing her best to keep it light and praying it works.

It seems to, and he returns her smile, even if it doesn't get remotely near his eyes. "You sure you don't need some phone books to sit on? Maybe a booster seat?" He says as he buckles himself into his car. For some reason, the thought of her driving his jeep seems to be more amusing than terrifying to him in this circumstance. At any rate, it's a welcome distraction.

"You know what they say about large, garish-colored vehicles and your manhood, right?" She fires back, adjusting his mirrors deliberately.

"That's only for sports cars and people approach their forties. Besides, my vehicle reflects my enormous _personality_." He winks suggestively at her.

Laughing, she fiddles with the a/c and the electric seat, relishing in how uncomfortable it's making him. "I don't think they make a car big enough for your ego to fit inside." She tilts her head. "You know, on second thought, I think this yellow monstrosity is perfect for you." She rubs her hands along the leather-lined steering wheel, and revs the accelerator, noticing the agitated rumble Logan makes in his chest. "It's all flash. Style over substance." She hasn't even left Mac's driveway and all of his presets are a mess.

With a faked, shocked look, he smooths his hands along the dash. "Shhh, baby, she didn't mean it." He glares at her. "Says the girl with the barely street legal tin can. Did you manage to get your pal Weevil to give you the proceeds from the scrap heap he sold it to?"

"Hey! I loved that car." She pouts. "And for your information, Weevil's fixing it."

A stillness hangs in the air. A line had been crossed without either of them realizing it. It was like any hint of "That Night" was enough to suck the life out of both of them. Veronica decides now is a good time to drive them back to her apartment.

After several miles of uncomfortable silence, Logan dips his head, and stares up at her earnestly. "She hates me," he says, almost so quiet she doesn't catch it.

"What? Who hates you?"

"Lana. I mean, she loathes Aaron as well, but I'm pretty sure she has always blamed me for their split."

Veronica stares at him aghast. "How? What could you have had to do with it? You weren't even born until well after their divorce, right?"

He shrugs and turns back to look out the window, slouching down into the seat and propping his feet up on the glove box. "I don't even know why. Just every time I would see her, she would just look at me, like, I don't know, like I was the devil or something. She's Trina's mom, you know. I mean, not her real mom, but Trina thinks of her that way. She basically dumped her on Aaron after the divorce came through, so I don't know why Trine has such a soft spot for her. But it was like no one else could be her mom."

Veronica thinks back to their childhood, how Trina would talk to Lynn like she was just Logan's mom and not the woman who had been raising her practically her whole life. It had never made much sense at the time, but Veronica was never really close enough with Trina to really care about it one way or the other.

"Well, that actually explains a lot. When was the last time you saw her, Logan?" She tries to keep one eye on him to gage his mood, but it's hard when she has to steer his boat, too.

"On and off when I was really young. She would come by to check on Trina, birthdays and Christmas mostly. Mostly she would just show up at places randomly and make a spectacle of herself at Aaron or my mom's expense. The last time though...was probably when I was about twelve. Right before we moved here." His eyes darken to the color of coal and a chilling darkness hangs over his handsome features. Lost in the whirlpool of his memories, he quakes when he speaks. "She was sitting in the hospital lobby, reading a magazine. It was right after one of the worst times he..." His voices cracks and he licks his lips before he can continue. _Worst times?_ She thinks, then it hits her. _Oh. God._ "Anyway, she just looked at me with my arm in a cast, my face all bruised up, and she smiled. I remember thinking that I had never seen her look happier."

Veronica pales and shivers, making a quick decision to pull his vehicle over, cutting the engine. She turns to him and carefully takes one of his hands in hers. His hand is ice cold, but there is sweat across the palm. She decides not to say anything, to wait him out until he was ready. What was there to say to make it better or easier anyway?

His whole body shudders and like a flip of the switch, he's back to his old self, half smiles and warm guarded eyes. "Hey, sorry about that. Some family, huh? We should all come with warning label. _Caution: Contents are radioactive and severely fucked up_."

"Logan," she says, careful to step out each word like she's walking through a mine field. "Never, ever, apologize for telling me about your past. I want to know. I want to do what I can to make it better for you."

He brushes a hair over her ear, so close to her face now she can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. "I know, sugarpuss. But some things you just can't fix."

She clenches her jaw, willing her frustration back. Part of her wants to scream at him and tell him _Logan, you are not broken! You are not like them!_ And part of her just wants to climb into his lap and strip them both naked and forget all their problems in a torrent of sheer bliss.

She does neither of these things. Instead, she opts for a quick, shaky peck on his cheek as she reaches back to start up the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	8. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth is surprised: Veronica is much more than she seems.

Exiting the doors of the Neptune Grand, Beth Turner takes in the bright, burnt gold light of the late afternoon sun. Between her case load at the DA's office and spending her nights with Mick, it seems like ages since she allowed herself to enjoy the warmth of sun on her skin.

She had left a note for Mick about going out to get something to eat. He was still asleep in the ice-filled tub and she knew he would want to feed when he woke. Her steps, sure and steady a moment before, falter slightly as she thinks about him. He was still acting so guarded about her watching him feed. Most days, she shrugged it off as one of his self-loathing vamp quirks, but the way he was so secretive about it sometimes made her wonder what other things he was hiding from her. Although their relationship had gotten progressively more physical these last few weeks, he was still so careful with her, it was starting to get annoying. Some days, she really wished he would just pin her up against the wall and _bite_ her already. _Well,_ she smiled faintly, resuming her easy pace, _bite me as he's coming inside me._ Her entire body feels flushed and it's not from the intensity of the sunlight. Maybe she needs to be more direct with him as to what she wants. Really spell it all out for him. _Mick, I want you to let loose a little, get a little rough. I want you to make me feel alive._ Her mind wanders over the fantasy as she strolls toward the restaurant district of Neptune.

Finding herself at a small café, she selects a red wine and a small steak. Suddenly, someone slipped into the empty chair across from her. A rather small, very blonde, someone.

"Veronica?" Beth asked. "What are you doing here? Is everything okay with Logan?"

The girl nods solemnly and steeples her hands in front of her. "I know your secret." She says in a completely faked hushed whisper. She even darts her eyes for emphasis.

Beth tries not to let the startled look show. Her mouth goes dry, though, as she tries to speak. "What secret? I'm an open book." _How could she possibly know about Mick? Oh god, does she know about Josef?_ She can feel the creeping rise of panic in her limbs. Just who was this girl?

When Beth was younger, to combat the post kidnapping nightmares, her parents signed her up for horseback riding therapy. She loved horses. Riding them made her feel powerful and in charge. There she was, a small frail girl, and this large, towering beast was completely at her command. It was an intoxicating sensation. She could gallop and cantor and trot and run with the best of them. Never had she felt freer, more sure of herself.

But when it came to the jumping, all her courage fled. Time and time again she would lead the horse up to the polls, only to divert it at the last second. Then, upon seeing her do this one too many times, her instructor, a kindly old man with golden, wrinkled skin and a long white beard, took notice. With a warm, reassuring hand upon the horse's flank, he asked her, "Beth, why can't you jump? Are you afraid? "

She tilted her head down so she didn't have to meet the man's knowing eyes, and her helmet slipped down over one ear. "I'm scared because," she hitched her tiny chest searching for the answer, "what if the horse trips and falls?" Visions of rearing horses and crushed bones float through her mind. The instructor smiled and adjusted the straps to her helmet as he said, "If you are scared, the horse will know and he will fall," he states with a frank tone. Her eyes grow wide with shock. "But," he continues with another pat to the horse’s neck, "if you believe _you_ can jump the hurdles, then the horse will as well. The trick is to keep looking ahead as if the poles aren't even there." He swatted the back of the horse's rump lovingly like they were old friends and flashed her a tender smile.

That day Beth jumped two small hurdles. The next, she was blowing over them as if they never existed in the first place.

It's a lesson Beth learned well, especially when dealing with situations like this. Beth sits back coolly in her chair, her face a composed mask of calm.

"You're in love." Veronica states directly, picking up a breadstick and chewing happily on the end. She kept her light blue eyes trained innocently on Beth. _God, she's tough. No, scary. That's what she is._ And following closely after, a strange fleeting thought. _Josef would LOVE her._

Inwardly, Beth breathes a sigh of relief. _She doesn't know about Mick or Josef._ Outwardly she continues to sip her water politely and smiles. "Sure. So what?"

"Well," Veronica leans forward and puts her chin on top of her laced fingers, "I bet if you thought your man was cheating on you, you'd want to get even."

Beth nearly chokes on the water, so she sets it down carefully. "Where is this coming from?"

The teen grabs another breadstick and leans back into the seat, looking pleased for some reason. "I just thought you might like to know who it was that Mick was chatting up last night."

There are very few things that truly surprised Beth anymore. Not since learning that the man she loves was a vampire, and that he had saved her life when she was just a kid and was abducted by another vampire in an attempt to make her a part of a psycho vampire family. But this, coming from such an unassuming young girl, this floored her. "How-?"

Veronica waves away the question. "I have a guy. Well, a girl actually. Not important. Look, all you need to know is that woman in the elevator, I don't think it was a coincidence that she was there and gettin' friendly with your PI-on-the-side. In fact, I think something really, really big is going on. And I think you know more than you are letting on." She leans forward again, her eyes so startlingly bright, they shine all on their own, and says, "Here is what is going to happen. You're going to tell me the truth about why you and Mick are here. And I mean _all_ of the truth. Trust me, I know when people aren't being honest. Then, I'll tell you what I know about that woman."

 _Again, who the hell is this girl?_ Taking a moment to consider her options, she studies her. Cute, short, dressed like a punk rock Barbie. How would she handle knowing the truth? She's fierce and smart, the smallish bruises on her cheeks and forearm are proof of that, but she's stubborn, and deeply mistrustful. There's no way she could hand the "Mick's a vampire, but it's okay because he doesn't kill anyone' revelation. Not to even mention the whole 'your boyfriend has a clone who is a 400-year-old vampire billionaire business tycoon' thing. Sometimes she's not even sure how she manages to feel sane. Slowly, she shakes her head. "Sorry, no deal."

The girl pouts, _actually pouts_ , and sighs. "Oh, well, in that case, I guess I should just warn you that when I will find out what you're hiding, and I will find out, I plan on doing whatever I have to do to keep Logan safe." She flashed Beth a 50 megawatt smile and batted her lashes innocently.

"Look, Veronica," Beth says as calmly as she can manage, "we aren't here to cause problems. We're just..." How could she possibly explain this without spilling out the truth. _More lies? Sure, why not._ Especially ones wrapped in a truth package with a big truth bow. It would probably be the only way to get her to stop poking around. "Okay, here's the thing," she lowers her voice and whispers, "I'm not allowed to say anything directly, but if you think this woman we met might be a problem, than I will tell you why we are really here."

Veronica raises her eyebrow, and leans forward conspiratorially, "Spill it, chicky."

"Our client, who, I'm afraid, must remain nameless, is a...sort of distant relative of Logan's. He heard about what happened here and has taken an interest in his case. That's all. He wants to make sure Logan isn't in any real trouble." _That should satisfy her._

Veronica snorts, her lips curled into a sneer. "So getting framed for murder isn't "real" enough for you? Who is it? I didn't know he had any one left."

Startled by Veronica's sudden anger, she shakes her head. _Oh no. Did I just totally make everything worse?_ "Sorry, absolutely can't tell you that. But our job here is pretty much over. I mean, Logan's going to be fine. The Sheriff's Department is dropping the murder charges, right? It's over. We just came to make sure."

Crossing her arms, Veronica sits up rigidly. "Do you realize that Logan is alone in all this? Like, _alone_ alone. There is no one in this town who gives a crap whether he lives or dies." She shakes her head. "Tell your client that if all he's good for is keeping watch, he might as well get his updates on the evening news with the rest of them." She pushes her chair back to stand.

Beth holds out her hand. "Veronica, wait. It doesn't matter about that, what matters is that you care. And we both want the same thing here. Please, tell me about that woman." She pleads.

"Her name is Lana."

Beth nods. "I know, she gave Mick her card. It said Lana Montgomery."

Veronica shakes her head. "Maybe now, but it used to be Lana Echolls."

As the food Beth ordered arrives, she barely notices.

Veronica continues as though the interruption never occurred. "She was Aaron's first wife. They were married about four years before Logan was born. Apparently, Aaron dumped her when he met Lynn, Logan's mom, and Lana was not very happy about it. Like, 'psycho stalker' not happy. Logan says he hasn't heard or seen her in years, but the fact that she's back now...it's not good. Especially for him. He claims that she blames him for the split for some strange reason." She frowns and looks away. "I tried finding out about her. But it's all a brick wall. Someone has wiped her slate clean. Only the basic stuff about her marriage to Aaron is left." Her frown deepens. "Do you know what she wanted with Mick?"

Beth shakes her head. "No, she just handed him that card and told her to call, you know, 'for a good time' or whatever." She hugs herself as if the daylight had become cold.

Veronica narrows her eyes and studies her, almost like she wants to say more, but is holding herself back. "I don't like this. I don't know what she's playing at, but I will say it wasn't as random as you think. After you left, she rode the elevator up the top, closed the doors, rode it straight back down, and left the hotel."

"So she targeted us?" Beth surmises.

Veronica nods. "Yeah. It looks like she went after Mick specifically."

"Okay. We'll look into it. I'm not sure that it means anything, though." She really hoped Veronica couldn't read how nervous she was feeling about this new information.

Still holding her gaze steady, Veronica sighs. "Sure. Maybe you're right. But if I find out you're lying, or that your 'employer' has any bad intentions, I will make you regret the day you ever stepped foot in this town." She finishes her statement with a flourish of her hands somewhat indicative of a noose.

It was such a childish gesture that Beth can't help laughing at her. Veronica scowls darkly. As she rises to leave, Beth stops her with a gentle hand upon her arm. "Veronica, you're wrong, you know."

"Wrong about what?" She huffs, turning sharply away from the well-intentioned gesture.

"About Logan being all alone. He has you."

For the first time, Veronica seems to drop her tough exterior, and she glances quickly off toward the failing sunlight. "Yeah, but I don't think I'm enough." She whispers, and strolls quickly through the crowd of tables, disappearing into the street among the lengthening shadows.

...

Mick was up, dressed, and fed, finishing up one of the bags of A-pos he had stashed in a locked electric cooler when Beth arrived back at their room. He smiles warmly at her and asks if she found someplace nice to eat.

Lowering her gaze, she realizes that after everything she had learned, she hadn't even felt hungry enough to finish her meal. "I ran into Veronica today. Well, I think she ran into me."

Mick's brow shoots up. "Really? What did she have to say?"

Beth concentrates on the carpet and tries to pull together all the stray thoughts she had been having since talking to Veronica. "Can I see that card again from the woman on the elevator?"

Mick blinks, looking confused. "Card?"

She crosses her arms and sits on the edge of the bed. "Yes. You showed it to me briefly yesterday and I want to take a look at it again."

Still blank faced, he absently pulls out his wallet and hands it over. "I don't know what you're talking about, but take a look."

Puzzled, she begins riffling through the contents until she sees what she was searching for. "You don't remember talking to that woman on the elevator yesterday? The one with the painted on dress? She tried to proposition you right in front of me." Her voice is edged with anger and frustration.

He shrugs his broad shoulders in honest confusion. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about. I thought we came straight back here. Was this before we met Logan?"

Her anxiety increasing, Beth stands up, card in hand. "Look," she shoves the card under his nose. "You don't remember her handing you this?" _What was going on with him? Why was he lying?_ She tries to keep her doubts at bay, but for some reason, she keeps picturing the oddly _familiar_ way Lana had brushed against Mick's arm and the intensity of his gaze staring back. And now, he says he can't remember? Her stomach turns at thoughts of what he might have been up to while she was out.

"No, not at all. I don't remember any one. Why?" His dark, soulful eyes meet hers, and her doubts evaporate. There is no lie hidden in those eyes. She knows him too well for that, and Mick may be a vampire, but to her, he's always been painfully transparent.

A smile perches on her lips. "Veronica must have gotten the security footage of the building somehow." She watches his face go slack with shock.

"Veronica did what?"

Continuing on, she waves away his questions for the moment. There are more pressing issues. "She saw us and this woman, Lana, on the elevator. And so did Logan. I guess he must have recognized her, because she said this 'Lana Montgomery' was once 'Lana Echolls,' his dad's first wife."

Mick takes the card and studies it in earnest. She watches as he knits his brow in concentration. "Long, brown hair? Skin tight dress? Big wide-set eyes? I think I do remember, but it's foggy. Distant. That is so strange." He rubs the bridge of his nose, and turns to look at her. She is stunned by the horrified expression haunting his eyes. "I don't forget faces, Beth. I don't forget them _ever._ So why can't I see hers?"

Beth collapses again. A small, silly theory she had earlier dismissed as preposterous suddenly flares back into life. After years of learning the hard way to not ignore her gut, she turns her head up to him. "Maybe it's time to call Josef."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	9. Celebrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Kostan comes to Neptune.

Josef knew this was a mistake. It didn't stop him, but he still knew that the second he opened the door to the penthouse suite at the ironically named "Neptune Grand" that he had made a huge error in judgment. _This was the town's idea of luxury? A glass wall and fish decor? All it's missing is oddly-shaped chandelier and some sort of post-modern artwork on the walls._

If he had any real sense, he'd still be in LA. Doing his job. Running his damn company. Not here. Not in Neptune, a real 'torches and pitchforks' kind of town if he ever saw one. But he just needed to know what was going on. Strike that. He needed to see the kid for himself. To be physically in his presence one more time and prove to himself this is all real. Or something like that.

Donning his 'peasant' clothing, a brown tweed flat cap, his favorite $4000 black moto jacket, and dark denim jeans, he slips out of the hotel suite he had just arrived at, hoping his growing sense of unease was nothing more than a lack of sleep and fresh blood.

His car, a silver Jag XKR-S with completely tinted windows, did little to quell his bad mood. He kept having to remind himself why he hadn't just driven his favorite Ferrari down to this somewhat seedy seaside town. _Oh, that's right, Josef, people tend to notice you when you stalk them driving a bright red neon sign_.

The first stop on the tour is the Echolls' mansion. There are a few scattered reporters camped outside the security gate, but overall, the place looks deserted. He decides to drive past, rather than to risk one of them accidently spotting him. After all, the whole reason this fiasco started was because he wanted to stay _out_ of the papers.

For hours, he drives around the tow aimlessly, fruitlessly searching for an all too familiar face. Really though, he spends most of the time debating with himself about why he is even here in the first place. It wasn't like he could just stroll up to his double and say 'hey'. If he was being honest with himself, far back, in a teeny-tiny part of his brain where he still remembered what it was like to be human, he felt a connection with the kid deeper than he wanted to admit. He remembered that night in LA and how strangely electric it had been to lock eyes with him. And yet, he had also felt such a strange urge then to protect that kid. He wonders if, after 400 years, he has grown too soft for his own good.

What he should do is to take off, drive back to LA, get a bevy of freshies and hole-up in some swanky condo for a couple of weeks and just let this whole thing blow over. He knew there was never that much of a real threat on his character or his business prospects in the first place. Mick and Beth were just grasping at straws here anyway. No, what he was doing here wasn't just soft, _it was crazy._

Pulling his Jag up to a small, near empty section of beach, he allows himself a moment to stare at the fading sun setting over the ocean. It is all he needs to set his mind right and come to the decision to leave. It would have been a perfect, peaceful sunset, but some kids down by the rocks had a campfire going and he could hear their shouts and drunken dares from here. He laughs softly at a brief remembrance of his own misspent youth. By their age, he was entertaining royalty and trying to avoid being roped into an arranged marriage by his domineering father, the Viscount. Still, there were a few times were he had been free enough to enjoy a drunken night or two with his peers. He never had actual friends. Most of the people he had been around in his human days were servants and soldiers, neither of which made for good conversationalists. But at least they were decent drinking partners.

A figure, silhouetted in black, moves in front of the fire and begins yelling at the sky, whooping it up. Josef chuckles at how completely wasted the kid sounds. But as he listens, he hears an anguish in the cries that seemed far removed from simple drunken debauchery.

His blood, normally cool, turns to liquid ice.

Without thinking, he exits the car and stalks carefully down to the beach, as if being drawn forward by the call. Even though it has been seven years, he easily recognizes the shadowed outline in front of the fire. Perhaps it is because he often would see the same slope of the shoulder and tilt of the head reflected back at him in the mirror. The boy was jumping around now with another kid possessed of a shaggy mop of blonde hair. Both swing their glass liquor bottles around in the air like windmills before taking a swig and laughing. Several more figures on the other side of the fire cheer them on and Josef realized it was the first time he has actually heard the kid's voice. It, too, is chillingly familiar. He tucks himself into the deep recesses of an outcropped rock and watches.

"Hey Dick?" Logan calls out, and the blond kid stomps over. "Know what is so great about this?"

"No?"

Josef smiles to himself at the slurry way the boy's words come out.

"I just realized that I can stay out all night and no one will even care. No more 'daddy dearest' waiting up for me when I get home to tuck me in."

There is such venom in his voice, Josef reels back.

The blond one, however, seems completely oblivious to Logan's intent. "You know it, dude! Hey, maybe we should take this party back to your place. Like, make your 'mancipation official. I'll get a keg and call up some more girls. Hell, I guess you could even invite Ronnie, if you wanted to."

Logan sways unsteadily on his feet as he turns to look at his friend. "That, Dick, is an _excellent_ idea!"

Dick bounds off to tell the others about the plan and Logan is left momentarily alone. Josef studies him closely, watching the way he hugs his loose jacket across his chest and shivers. He knows, next to the bonfire, it isn't the temperature that is affecting the kid.

The moment is ended by the distant approach of vehicles. Dick and some of the other kids round back towards Logan, noticing the noise.

"Dude, if those PCHers are looking for another round, we'll show 'em." Dick exclaims to the encouragement of the crowd.

"Yeah, I owe Paco and his biker amigos some severe payback." Logan spits.

The engines cut off and a group of figures emerge out of the darkness. From his shadowed hiding spot, Josef can clearly see that these aren't bikers.

"Logan Echolls?" A voice calls out with an note of satisfied smugness.

Logan's laugh fills the air as he recognizes the cadence of the man's voice. "Aw, come on, Lambikins, you miss me already? I know we've become such _good_ friends lately, but I think you've got the wrong idea about me. But I'll always cherish our time together." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at the uniformed sheriff who just crossed his arms and smirks.

Logan continues his taunts, getting right up in the officer's face. "Do you mind getting to the point? I sorry but I don't have all night for you, baby. Bigger and better things, you know." He waves his arms in a shoeing motion.

Lamb widens his eyes, but continues to smile knowingly as he pops his gum. He nods to the other deputies with him and they begin to encircle Logan. "You need to come with me."

Logan starts laughing, but still hovers right up next to the Sheriff's face. "Why? I'm having a little thing here with my friends, Lamby, in case you didn't notice. I mean, what kind of host would I be if I left early? So, rude. I might not be invited back to next year's Debutant Ball."

The gum pops and cracks like gun shots in the ensuing silence. Lamb leans forward in an attempt to be intimidating, but it seems too rehearsed. "Logan Echolls, you are under arrest for the murder of Felix Toombs."

Apparently, Lamb had expected a struggle, because the deputies around him tense and reach down towards their weapons. Logan looks around, silently worried for a moment before laughing as loudly and obnoxiously as he can.

"Well, that's interesting. Didn't you get the memo? I was cleared of those charges, you know, having been beaten unconscious by the same gang member you said I killed."

"Well," Lamb smirks, "not exactly, _compadre_. The charges are still pending. They would only get dismissed barring any actual evidence to the contrary. Unfortunately, it's not your lucky day." He places a finger right on Logan's chest and pushes. Hard. "Someone saw you."

Logan stares open-mouthed for all of two heartbeats, before glancing down at the finger on his chest. The air almost visibly electrifies as his anger grows.

"Well then. You might as well do me the honor of making it all official-like." He says, biting out the words, and jerking his arms out in front, wrists together.

Lamb wastes no time in spinning him around roughly and reading him his rights. He makes no effort to be gentle as he forces the silver cuffs over his hands and pushes him toward the waiting car.

Dick, the blond kid, darts quickly over to Logan and says, "Dude? What do you want me to do?" Not fast enough, a couple of the officers push him aside.

Logan warns him off with a sharp shake of his head. "Just tell Veronica," he commands, as the Sheriff leads him off the beach and into the back of the squad car.

Josef remains frozen, every muscle in his body on alert at the scene he had just witnessed. It had taken everything in him not to rush out there are rip out the throats of the arresting officers. His rage at seeing Logan arrested and Logan's own resigned acceptance made the vamp in him ache to be set loose. Even worse, his reaction had terrified him. In an attempt to calm his rage and fear, he keeps repeating, _he means nothing to me. He's just another human. He means nothing. You are not getting involved. You are going home. Leave it alone._ But as the party brakes up and the teens leave the beach, suddenly Josef makes a decision.

 _Screw good ideas_ , _I'm staying._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	10. Sleepless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody hates Dick.

Veronica wakes sometime in the middle of the night to an incessant knocking at her apartment door. She moans, throwing aside the covers, and mutters to the heap of dozing fur at the foot of her bed, "Back-up, I'm seriously thinking about getting a cat." The dog picks his head up and looks at her with sleep-heavy eyes before dropping his head back down on his paws.

Dragging herself to the living room, she cringes when she hears an all-too-unwelcome voice calling her name in loud, obnoxious bursts. _Does no one in this town sleep any more?_ "You better have a fleet of ponies waiting for me, Dick. What do you want?" She says angrily, throwing open the door with a heart-stopping glare.

He flushes and slurs out, "Geez, Ronnie, why you gotta be like that?"

The smell of tequila and beer assaults her and she tries not to wretch. "God. How drunk are you, Dick?" She doesn't wait for him to answer, and chooses to keep firing. "Did you forget where you parked your car again? Cause I gotta tell you, I charge by the minute and I don't go on supply runs."

Looking briefly confused, he shifts on his feet and stares at the door frame. "Um, I _drove_ here Ronnie, so I'm pretty sure my car is, like, out there." He cocks his head back toward the parking lot and chuckles lightly to himself. "And I've already got a supply of beer in the truck. You want some?"

"Jesus, Dick. You drove here?" She says with strained indignation, rubbing her burgeoning headache. "What the hell were you thinking?"

He chuckles taper off, as he senses her increasingly agitated mood, "Geez, chillax Ron. I'm not drunk. I mean, I stopped drinking when Logan got busted at our beach party, and I'm still kinda buzzed, but-." The slight slur at the end of every word tells her he is far more wasted than he is admitting.

"Wait, Logan got arrested? What happened?" She snaps at him, feeling fully awake now.

"Well," He crosses his arms like he's about to launch into a long-winded story, and she ups the intensity of her glare. Instantly, he drops his arms and looks down at her pajama bottoms. "So, like, I was throwing this sweet little bash on the beach, you know," he shifts his feet again nervously and fiddles with the hem of his shirt. She rolls her eyes angrily. Oh, she knew just what kind of party Dick was having. Once upon a time, she had gone to quite a few of those parties. Her glare goes to 11 and he briefly catches her eye again before turning his hulking body completely away. In any other circumstance, she would find it extremely comical that he was so scared of her he couldn't even face her. "Anyway," he continues to the wall behind her, "I was just trying to get Logan to loosen up and have a little fun. He's been pretty down lately, what with, you know, everything."

Gritting her teeth, Veronica quips, "Oh, I don't know, Dick. Seems like he's been having a _great_ time, what with getting beaten up, arrested, and finding out about Lilly and his dad. I mean, what kid wouldn't love that? And all the media attention, too? Icing on the cake."

Dick nods, like he completely agrees, and Veronica pinches her nose painfully, thinking, _oh my god, he really can't be that dense, can he? Then again, it is Dick. There is only one part of his body he uses, and it is definitely not his brain._

Continuing his conversation with her wall, he says, "Like I said, he's been bummed. So we were down at the beach, minding our own business, when that tool, Lamb, shows up." He actually turns to stare at her now with his most puppy-like expression. One that she wasn't even aware he possessed until now. It's like a three-year-old who just discovered a broken vase his dog knocked over and is worried he's going to get punished for it. She sighs, and rolls her hand slightly trying to get him to continue. Eventually, he does. "Lamb just comes up and smiles like he knows something, and tells Logan he's under arrest for Felix's murder."

"What!" Veronica exclaims, causing him to stumble back into the door frame. "That's not possible. He was cleared."

Dick shakes his head. "Not according to that poser. Said there was new evidence. And a witness."

"Shit." Veronica mutters, wheels turning furiously in her brain. "Shit!" Louder this time, with a little foot stomp thrown in for good measure.

Dick reels back from her and struggles to remain standing as both her anger and another wave of his alcohol-induced stupor hits him. He's unsure whether he should stay and help with Logan or whether he should just pass out on the balcony and not worry about any of this anymore. Option two is looking better and better the more pissed Ronnie gets. Placing a hand out in front of him to steady himself, he slides down the door way to the floor. Somewhere distantly, he hears his own voice saying, "It's cool, Ronnie. I'll just wait here. You go take care of Logan. That's what you do, right?"

Even farther away, he hears her reply. "Shit! Seriously Dick? Wake up! I am not dealing with you, too. Come on!" He feels his body being moved at a slight pressure on his hips, but he's losing the ability to remain conscious. She's pushing at him, struggling to get him to move out of the door. Unable to push him far enough, she gives up and begins rolling him into her apartment, muttering angrily, "Grrr. Fine. Get in here. The last thing I need is for the neighbors to see your drunk ass parked outside my door all night. Seriously, how much did you guys drink?" He rolls ungracefully into the foyer and comes to a stop with his cheeks pressed against the bare floor. Before he completely looses consciousness, he thinks that whatever it is on his skin feels cool and _amazing_.

She huffs, breathing hard with the effort to move his large body and shuts the door. Briefly, she considers trying to force him to move to the couch, but then just shakes her head. _Why bother, the floor is a good place for dirt,_ she thinks. Back-up comes loping from her room and is immediately curious about the half-conscious boy sprawled out on the wooden foyer, face down. He sniffs around the body before perching himself up on top of his slowly breathing form, nesting into his back and dragging his paws out in long stretches. Dick groans and says something resembling "Yeah, babe, that feels nice," in slurry drunk-speak. Veronica throws up her hands in defeat and goes in search of her phone. And some coffee. Lots of coffee. As she steps around Dicks spread legs, she smiles remembering that when Back-up sleeps, he drools. A lot.

Later, with coffee brewing and phone in hand, she scrolls through her contacts until she finds the name she was looking for.

"Hello?" A soothing, sleepy baritone voice answers.

"Cliffy, _dahling,_ " Veronica replies sweetly. "I'm glad you're awake."

"I'm not, Veronica." He answers curtly. "So... goodnight."

"Oh come on. The Seventh Veil doesn't close for another hour. Besides, I've got something you might be interested in."

"Unless this 'something' has red hair, enormous breasts, and a tongue like a tiger, I'm not."

"Cliffy," she throws the pout and the head tilt into her words, knowing he can't see them, but he can certainly hear them all the same. "Come on. I need a favor."

He sighs, groans, and shuffles the phone around. "What? And it really better be good. You still owe me from the last favor I did you."

In the background, she can her the squeak of his bedframe and the soft rustle of fabrics. She smiles to herself, knowing she's already roped him in. "Oh, you'll love it, I promise. I need you to get Logan out of jail."

He laughs, deeply and for a long time. "Again. Really, V? Is he trying to get some sort of perfect attendance award or something? Maybe a Ripley's nod?"

She chuckles right along with him, because really, what else can she do. "I think he might just like the decor. Or maybe it's the food. I hear they've started doing a wine and cheese tasting after 4 p.m."

His laughter comes to a slow halt, and he sighs. "Tell me what happened."

Veronica shifts the phone to the other ear, and eyes the still sleeping outline of Dick on the floor. "Lamb took him in for Felix's murder. Said there was a witness now. Maybe new evidence."

Cliff sighs again, louder. "V, you know I trust your judgment. Usually. But are you sure about all this? I mean, if there's a witness now, it's not looking good for his case. He might even have a hard time with the self defense angle."

A shot of steel goes through Veronica's body. "Yes, I'm certain. I know he's innocent. Logan might be a lot of things, Cliff, god knows I know that better than most. But he's _not_ a killer."

She can hear Cliff breathing, taking in what she's said. "Yeah. I know." He admits quietly. Veronica wonders at that. She knows Cliff has only spoken to Logan a handful of times, mostly just some questions about his emancipation paperwork, but she never thought Cliff had any particular opinion about him one way or another. Her mouth twitches in a smile. It must the 'Logan effect'. When people meet him, they either seem to instantly love him or instantly hate him. There were just no in-betweens.

"Look, Veronica," his voice is low and reassuring, "get some sleep." He stops her protest, adding, "I know, I know. But he'll be alright for a few hours. Besides, you've had a rough week, and you know your dad would kill you if you don't take care of yourself. Speaking of which... how's he doing?"

Veronica is very glad Cliff can't see her expression right now. With all the craziness that had been happening with Logan, she had really slacked off on her daughterly duties. Maybe Cliff was right about waiting until morning. "Good. He has to stay two more days until he's can be discharged." For the millionth time, she notices how quiet the apartment is without him around. "Did you know he's in talks with a publisher to write a book about this whole thing?"

"Really? Didn't know your old man had any talent in that department. Though, with his wry sense of humor and his grim outlook on life, he'd probably do better with his own reality show."

"Well, you wouldn't be wrong there." She chuckles. "But I don't think the lighting guys would appreciate all the work they would have to do stop the glare from bouncing off his head."

Cliff barks out a laugh. "Okay, V, I'm going back to bed. And I suggested you do the same. I'll meet you at the Sheriff's Department at 9 a.m. In the meantime, get some rest."

She nods, even though he can't see her. "Fine. Just need to sweep up some trash." She glances at the lump of blond hair and fur by the door warily.

"What?"

"Never mind, Cliff. See you at 9." She disconnects and stares at Dick's immobile body, debating whether it's worth the effort to wake him up and force him out or not. Back-up snores peacefully from his perch, riding the slow steady up and down of Dick's chest like a boat on a wave. Her inner gooey-center wins out.

She shakes her head, sighing to herself, before flipping open her phone and snapping a picture of Dick. With a small, smug smile, she heads off to bed. _Ah, blackmail._ Besides, what could be better revenge for a drunk showing up in the middle of the night than waking him _bright_ and _early_ to kick him out? Preferably with an air horn. Or ice water. Or her Taser. Maybe some sort of combination of the three.

Happily distracted, Veronica drifts off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	11. Reception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past finally catches up to Josef.

"Hey, Mick, can you get that? It's probably my room service." Beth calls out from the tiny hotel bathroom, the smell of her tropical shampoo filling the rest of the room.

He tilts his head trying to catch a glimpse of her naked form in the shower, before answering the knocking at the door. He's so caught up on the slight glimpse of her naked, wet leg, that he fails to notice it's not room service at the door before it's too late. It's not even human.

"Housekeeping," Josef quips in high voice before pushing past a stunned Mick into the suite.

"Josef?" Mick asks in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

Josef spins tightly and shrugs, "Thought I'd come check out the digs I'm paying for. Maybe take a little vacay for myself, seeing as the two of you are so found of this town. I hear the seafood here is to die for." He does a little gesture with his fingers pressed against his lips and released in a flourish. Then, he adjusts his red suit jacket and claps his hands together as he looks around nosily. "So, where is Blondie?"

Mick growls and hikes up his shoulders. "She's in the shower, as if you couldn't tell." Mick is glad he has already reached over and shut the bathroom door completely while Josef was busy flouncing about.

A wicked grin spreads across Josef's face and Mick narrows his eyes, daring him to comment.

"Ah," he acquiesces. "So cleanliness is next to godliness after all. Dinner?"

Mick shakes his head. "Why are you here? I thought I told you it was too risky."

Josef runs his hand down the satiny drapes absently, "What can I say? Maybe my hearing is starting to go. They say it can happen after you reach your fourth century."

"Josef. Go home. Let us handle this."

Josef looks up, and sharpens his gaze. "Ah, see, that's where you're wrong. You aren't handling it."

Mick fights back an urge to defend himself and instead remains silent.

"Did you even know that Logan was arrested again?"

"What? How'd that happen? Wait," Mick said, rounding on Josef, "How do you know?"

Never one to back down, Josef states fiercely, "Look, does it matter? All that matters is that you keep my boy safe. I didn't hire you so that you and Blondie could shack up like honeymooners and play footsies. I-."

"Wait a minute," interrupts Mick, pointing a finger at him with a smirk. "You called Logan your 'boy'."

Josef's eyes went dark. "No I didn't." He snaps.

"Yes you did," Beth states from the bathroom doorway. Her hair is went and knotted loosely in a bun and the fluffy bath robe she is wrapped up in exposes too much of the smooth curve of her legs.

Both men take a beat before they can answer, trying not to look over at her while she gathers up her clothes. "I distinctly remember calling him _the_ boy. Why would I say that...other thing?" Answers Josef defensively, crossing his arms and pouting like a sullen child.

Both Mick and Beth exchange glances and smile simultaneously.

Josef waves his hand in frustration and turns back to the curtains, seemingly finding them very interesting. "A slip of the tongue." He leers at Beth for a second, looking noticeably down her half naked body. "Although normally ladies tend to enjoy it when my tongue slips."

Beth fakes a gag reflex and returns to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Meanwhile, Josef has fallen into the small recliner, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "You know, Mick, maybe my problem is that I haven't had a good meal since I've arrived here. You got anything to drink that's decent?"

Mick shakes his head and shows him the contents of his cooler, a couple bags of A pos sit on the bottom shelf. "I'm actually running pretty low. I didn't think about that when I decided to stay on."

"Hey, don't worry about it." Josef replies, pulling out his phone. He punches up a number and says. "Hey, it's Josef. I'm down your way and in need of a hook up? Got anyone you can send over?" He listens to the response, watching Mick with a knowing smile on his face. "Sure, that would great. Penthouse Suite, Neptune Grand. It's under Tony Camonte." He says, ending the call.

Mick quirks an eyebrow at him and mouths, "Scarface?"

Josef shrugs and tells him, "What? Howard Hughes was a good friend but a lousy poker player. I bet him he couldn't make a movie about Al Capone without the entire mafia on his back, but it turned out to be one of Al's favorites. I do have to say, for being completely mental, the man had enormous _cajones_." Josef smiles to himself as Beth and Mick look on in wonder.

"Who? Hefner or Capone?" Mick asks.

Josef shrugs. "Both. Although, between you and me, Hefner had the better parties." His eyes close, and slow wicked smile spreads across his lips.

Mick frowns and waits for him to finish his moment.

Clapping and rubbing his hands together, Josef leaps up off the chair, "Well now children, we've got some time to kill, how about you fill me in on what you've found out?"

Beth, having returned from the bathroom dressed in jeans and a light cardigan, picks up her laptop from the bed and pulls up the files she's been working on. "Okay, Mick and I have ran every possible lead to find an anomaly in his birth, but it's just not there. Blood type, parentage, all of it is normal. So, basically square one. However, something else has turned up that is sort of strange." She looks to Mick.

Mick clears his throat as he begins, "A couple nights ago, Beth and I were returning to our room, when we met up with a, um...lady... on the elevator. She, um, sort of propositioned me."

Josef falls back into the chair laughing. "What? Why are you telling me this? Do you need me to explain how it works to you?"

Mick growls and shakes his head, "That's not what this is about. She gave me her card, said her name was Lana Montgomery. But that's not the weird part. It was like she did something to me. I felt drugged, my senses were off. I couldn't even remember what she looked like afterwards. Beth had to remind me all about it."

Dropping the smile, Josef leans in. "That's not good. Did she drug you?"

"No, she didn't, she barely even touched me. But that is not all."

Beth swings the computer screen around to show a beautiful young lady with long, dark hair and wide-set brown eyes. She is arm in arm with another man who image makes Josef's blood boil. "This is Lana Echolls, Aaron Echolls' first wife." Beth explains. "She goes by Lana Montgomery now. And what she is doing here is anybody's guess."

Josef takes one last, long look at the screen and quickly walks out the door without a word, leaving Beth and Mick to wonder just what had happened.

...

Josef paces his penthouse suite, feeling frustrated and irritable. He's tired, hungry, and lost in a flurry of memory. When a knock at his penthouse door startles him from his thoughts, he thinks maybe Mick has come after him. He listens to the heartbeat and realizes it is a human outside. _Thank god, my evening meal has arrived,_ he growls and throws the door open.

Lana Montgomery, aka Lana Echolls, aka Lana Perkins, leans against his doorway, dressed in a slender black dress and looking at her perfectly polished red nails. Without even looking up, she says, "Hello, Josef. Been a long time." Years have passed since he last saw the woman in front of him, and she has changed so drastically, he cannot reconcile the woman he knew with this sultry seductress in front of him.

Josef swallows and forces his face into an unreadable expression. "Well, look at what the cat dragged in." He opens the door wider for her to enter.

She slinks into the room like a panther, setting her purse down on the leather couch and turning to look at him for the first time. "Always the charmer. How have you been?" She smiles, and Josef winces from the intention he sees there.

"Small talk, huh? What are you doing here, Lana?" Josef shifts his shoulders around uncomfortably and distantly fiddles with the button on his suit jacket.

She shrugs her shoulders, the dress pulling against her breasts with the motion, and runs a deep red fingernail down his cheek and chest ending just above his heart. The low light of the chandelier makes her gold and ruby bracelet sparkle malevolently. "Just having a little fun. Why are you here? Hardly your type of town. A bit bright for you, isn't it?"

Struggling to remain impassive, Josef stares at her with disdain. "Oh, you know, every few decades, I like to mix it up a little." He waits for her to answer his original question.

She sighs and removes her hand from him, sweeping back her long hair, now with a noticeably grey streak, off her right shoulder. Then she tilts her head, almost to her shoulder, exposing the vein in her neck deliberately. "Thought you might like to see me. You know, for old time's sake." She watches him with her cool, curious eyes, not a hint of fear.

Growling low in his chest, Josef pushes himself back from her. "I don't know what your game is, but I told you years ago I was done with you."

The wicked smile spreads across her carnelian lips. "Oh, Josef. The thing is, I wasn't done with you." She swings around and picks up her purse. "Sure I can't tempt you? The vintage may have changed, but I guarantee the flavor is still as sweet." He bares a fang at her in disgust as he shakes his head. She shrugs again, grey eyes dancing with both glee and menace. "Your loss. Be seeing you around, lover boy."

She strolls back to the door. Josef tries to go after her to force her to tell her what she is doing here, what all this is about. But he can't move. It's like he's rooted to the spot, frozen, and unable to stop her. He can only watch her go, her hips swaying purposefully, that knowing smile still gracing her lips as she turns and closes the door on him. It's not until several minutes pass that he can feel the muscles in his body loosen up. Immediately, he rushes to call Mick.

...

As Mick arrives, unfortunately, so do the freshies Josef had ordered earlier. In no mood for food at the present, he shuffles the girls off into a bedroom apologetically and pulls Mick off to speak with him. "I think you were right." Josef says, keeping his voice low.

Mick can hear the agitation and feel the worry coming off his friend in waves. "What happened?"

"Never piss off a freshie, Mick. Always comes back to bite you. So to speak." Josef collapses down onto the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

Mick can't remember the last time Josef looked this miserable. He furrows his brow and looks at his friend, waiting for him to continue. With a grimace, Josef says, "Lana was here."

Then it dawns on him. Josef's behavior at seeing the picture, his words now. "Lana was one of your freshies?"

In response, Josef nods. "Years ago. She went by Lana Perkins then. Gorgeous, sweet, innocent girl. Straight off the farm. Literally. Came out here to be an actress, I think. One taste and I was hooked, Mick. There was just something about her blood. It was..." he shrugs sadly, one-shouldered, and lowers his eyes. "Anyway, we ended up getting pretty close." Mick can tell by the look in Josef's dark eyes exactly what he means by _close_. "Anyway, she wanted more from me than I was willing to give, I guess. I broke it off... badly. It's not something I'm proud of."

"And now what? She's out to get you?"

Josef runs a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I haven't seen her since then. God, it's been... 25 years? You think she could still be trying to get revenge on me for something that happened that long ago?"

Mick offers him no condolences. He can't quite bring himself to absolve his friend of any blame quite yet. Getting _close_ with a freshie you don't intend to turn was an unspoken taboo amongst vampire kind for this exact reason. Still, this sort of mess Josef and Logan are in is a bit elaborate for a typical "scorned woman" revenge. "I don't like that she's here. I can't believe it's a coincidence. Not with her connection to Logan. Something's up, and she's at the center. But I don't know if or how she's involved."

Josef nods in agreement. "There's more. You know how you said you felt drugged around her?"

"Was it the same for you?" Mick asks worriedly.

"Not exactly. It was more like I was stunned. I couldn't move, I didn't have control over myself until she was beyond my reach. Damn it, Mick. This is not good." He shakes his head to clear it.

Mick looks up abruptly. "What about Logan? You said he was in jail."

Logan. Josef had nearly forgotten about the kid in the wake of the whirlwind that was Lana. A sickening impulse to flee back to LA and forget about this whole mess entirely nearly overcomes him. He's not sure why he was so concerned about the boy's welfare earlier, but the impulse seems to have momentarily left him. Perhaps there was nothing there after all.

Standing, Josef stalks about the suite. "There's nothing we can do for him right now. We need to figure out what Lana is up to. Besides, the kid's in custody at the Sheriff’s office. It's not like he's on death row." Josef goes quite, his eyes unreadable and pensive. Mick joins him and places a hand on his back in a show of support. Josef turns, sighing in resignation. "I think we might need some help on this. I know of a guy. He's supposed to be good."

Mick nods, worry deeply set on his face. "Yeah. If you think it'll help. I don't like the idea of some woman hell bent on revenge with a power over vamps."

Josef is already on the phone. "Robert, I need the number of a vamp down here in Neptune. Runs some sort of security company. Name of Wiedman, Clarence Wiedman."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	12. Incarceration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And things just keep getting better for Logan.
> 
> *Please forgive any improper usage of Spanish. I am not a native speaker. If something needs changed, please let me know!*

Logan stares at the crack in the concrete ceiling lit only by a small, yellow bulb and wishes, not for the first time, that he was still drunk. He hadn't been able to party with Dick nearly long enough to have gotten as wasted as he would have liked. Yep, a couple more bottles of scotch or tequila would have probably just been enough to keep away the constant knot of fear in his stomach at bay. He shifts on the cot and moans as his head spins. Still, at least the pain of the hangover was a distraction.

He hadn't heard a word from Veronica since they booked him yesterday. He still didn't know what they had on him to make them change their minds, but he was certain something was going on. He knew he didn't kill Felix, and there shouldn't be any evidence to the contrary. A witness. Lamb had said there was a witness. Logan vaguely remembered the man who ran off the PCHers, but he didn't think the guy would turn him in for stabbing Felix. It had to be a set up. Just like the murder. But why? Who would want to do that to him? Who could?

_Was this to be his life?_

He groans again and moves his long, lanky body around trying to get comfortable on the stone-hard cot. _Where the hell was she?_ Surely, she wouldn't abandon him again. Not this time. Not like before.

Would she? Maybe this was it for her. Maybe her trust in him had finally run out. Not that he could blame her. Not really. His life was one big empty pit of _suck_. And he was at the center, drowning. He really should just do them both a favor and cut the rescue rope she was offering.

But he couldn't. He needed her like oxygen. Nobody else cared if he lived or died. And nobody else could save him. Closing his eyes against the burn of the yellow halogen, he wonders again why he just didn't jump when he had the chance.

It's not like he deserved to be saved.

Hours tick by at a snail's pace. He can't sleep, his stomach growls mercilessly, and his head throbs in pain. His one and only comforting thought is that at least his dad was still on lock down at the hospital. It would have been like some sick cosmic joke if they had both been imprisoned together. He's sure it would have made Lamb's decade.

At some point his exhausted nerves must have given out, because the next thing he knows, sunlight was streaming in through the tiny window and an officer is telling him his lawyer is here.

Logan sits up, rubbing his head, scattering his light and dark locks in all directions, before walking unsteadily towards the deputy. Logan's sure he looks like the epitome of drunken fuck-up. He wonders if they'll show his mug shot next to images of Lindsey Lohan and Nick Nolte. The deputy, whose black, bushy mustache reminds Logan of bad 70's porn films, produces a pair of handcuffs and secures him, while Logan merely laughs at the image and Sachs shakes his head in confusion. Seconds later, he's lead from the cells to the interrogation room he's grown oh so fond of in the last week or so.

To say he was surprised to see Veronica sitting on the bench at the end of the hallway waiting there for would have been an understatement of epic proportions. He wasn't surprised. He was downright speechless. _She came. She actually came._

As he's jostled past, he smiles at her. And wonder of wonders, she smiles back. A real smile. One that tells him that she believes in him. All of his lingering fear is gone in an instant. It feels like Heaven.

The door closes on her and he's pushed into a seat at a table facing that lawyer friend of Veronica's, Cliff _something-or-other_ , but he's so elated by her presence, _just outside the door_ , that he could care less about the scowl on the man's face.

"Hello Logan, my name is Cliff and I will be your 'stop-being-an-ass-and-get-a-real-lawyer' lawyer." His excessively tall frame is hunched down rifling through a stack of paperwork spread out on the table before him, and barely looks up to meet Logan's eye before gathering it all back together with a sigh.

"Hey Cliffster. To what do I owe the pleasure," he says leisurely, like it's a business meeting between old friends. At this point, Logan feels like he's flying and nothing can bring him down. Thoughts of court dates, jail time, and ruined futures are pushed far, far back in his head. He's too busy thinking about her tender, careful smile. The longing look in her sapphire eyes. She'd even done her in soft waves and worn that tight black shirt he loved. For him. She was here for him.

Noticing the absence of Logan's usual sarcastic wit, Cliff pauses in thought before answering. "Thought I come around here," Cliff booms somewhat happily, "try to drum up some more business. Times have been slow. How else I am going to pay for all those four-handed Thai massages I'm so fond of."

Logan chuckles and leans back in the black plastic chair, hearing it creak with his weight. "Well, I'm glad to know daddy's money is being put to good use. Hit me."

With a quick glance at the officer in the corner, he flips open the file folder in front of him and looks over the papers inside. "I'd say it's not looking good for you, kid, but that would be the biggest understatement since God told Noah it's going to sprinkle a bit so he might want to pack an umbrella."

Logan shrugs, but it dawns on him that he had better start getting with the program or it might be a long time before he got the chance to be with his fair-haired savior again. "What this about a witness? And evidence? Lamb said something about that when he booked me."

Frowning, Cliff lays out a plastic bag containing a small pocket knife caked in blood on the table in front of him. Seeing the blood, the _realness_ of that night comes back to Logan in a rush and suddenly the elation he'd been feeling turns back to dread. He can remember the way the real knife felt in his hand, the way Felix's blood looked covering the knife and splashed across his hand. The heft of the weapon, so small, so heavy, so _deadly._ He remembers that there was no sound as the knife hit the water, only the thumping of his heart in his chest and the ragged scratch of his breath through his bruised lungs.

Cliff continues on despite the sickened look on Logan's face. "The evidence is circumstantial and easily dismissed. I have it on good authority the knife wounds won't match the size of the blade and the only forensic evidence of yours on the weapon is a slight partial print from your thumb. But the witness is going to be harder to discredit. He claims he saw you wait until Felix wasn't looking before pulling out a knife from your pocket and stabbing him in the chest. Even with the self-defense angle, that's going to make it really hard to prove you didn't kill him."

Logan's momentary regression turns to a anger as white hot rage grips his body. "He's lying." His jaw is clenched so tight, he worries it might snap. "I don't know why he's claiming he saw me stab Felix. But he's lying."

"Logan, the DA's wanting to push for murder in the first degree. He's trying to say this was a hate crime. It will just make his career." Cliff says bitterly. He forces Logan to look him in the eye, wanting him to understand just how serious this is. "Logan, that's life. Without parole."

Logan's head swims, his throat goes dry, and he lifts his shaking, cuffed hands up to the table. _FUCK! Life? No parole. There's no way she'll stay now. I can't believe...I can't..._ "I..." he stammers, but can get no further.

Sensing Logan's distress, Cliff quickly explains, "Don't worry. I'm sure it's not going to come to that. The DA's going to have a hell of a time drumming up that kind of support, and the circumstances just don't warrant it." He lies so smoothly sometimes, he even impresses himself. Cliff thinks about Logan and Veronica's reactions to each other. "And I have someone working on your case." He says, while eying the mustachioed officer in the corner. "I hear she's pretty tenacious when it comes to getting to the truth."

Nodding, Logan tries to run a hand through his hair before remembering that his hands were cuffed together and thinking better of it. "You don't have to tell me about it. I've already been on the receiving end of her vendettas for justice. Actually, it feels kinda good to be on the other side for once." He even manages a slight smile.

"Yep, and as soon as we are done here, you are going to help her out by putting daddy's money to good use and get yourself a whole _army_ of lawyers. Right?" Suddenly, Cliff's phone goes off with a text alert and as he reads the message, his face falls.

Logan is immediately on edge. "What is it?"

Cliff checks the phone again and looks directly up at him, just for a moment, but it's enough to let him know that whatever he's about to tell him is going to be very unpleasant. "Your father is being released from the hospital today."

Logan is overcome with an intense urge to stand up and flee the building, handcuffs be damned. _NO! Oh, god, no. I can't be here...with him..._ He can feel his chest tightening and his breath starts to come in painful gulps.

At Logan's obvious distress, Cliff clears his throat, and says lightly, wishing he had some way to comfort the boy. "Look, I think I can pull a few strings. Judge Garst owes me for the prenup I helped him out with on his third wife. I think I might be able to get you on a restrictive release, provided you weren't planning on fleeing the country any time soon. You weren't were you?"

Slowly coming back to his senses from his momentary panic, Logan shrugs and tries to smile. "What, and miss all this?" He waves his shackled hands through the air. "I plan on building a condo right in the middle of town. Preferably right on top of Sheriff Lamb's house."

"Great." Cliff sighs, shoving the papers back in the folder and standing. "I'll make some calls. I might have you out in a couple of hours if you've been very good boy to Lady Luck."

Logan merely snorts in reply.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Cliff mutters.

...

Four hours later, and Logan is a free man. Well, not free, he thinks looking down at the black box clamped around his ankle as he steps towards the doorway to the Neptune Sheriff's Department. No, definitely not free. But not in jail, at least. Not with _him_. He doesn't know what he did to earn the good fortune he's had today, but he is thankful that he managed to avoid his father for one more day.

Veronica is waiting inside her rental car far across the street as he steps out into the sun. Unfortunately, so is most of Neptune, it seems. The local paparazzi have been camped out on the jail steps waiting for their chance to capture a picture of the great Aaron Echolls being hauled in, but all of them recognize the smell of blood in the water when it's dangled in front of them. The second he is out the door, they begin to swarm over him, assaulting him with their questions. But even worse is, that beyond their frenzied attack, he can hear the protests and shouts of the rest of the crowd. Some are calling him another rich white boy getting off free, some are crying about Aaron's innocence. Hurrying as fast as he can without downright running, he glances off to see a growing swell of the Latino community shouting obscenities and angry accusations at him. His head spins with the din, driving him onward like a rabbit being pursued by foxes. It's only by keeping his eyes firmly planted on Veronica that he manages not to completely unravel. So much for his good luck.

Ducking quickly inside the car, Veronica stomps down on the accelerator and peels away, while he slouches low in the seat, shaky and breathless. Any moment now, he thinks he might start foaming at the mouth.

She grabs his hand and says, "I'm so sorry. I had no way of warning you. Are you okay?" Her eyes look him up and down, checking to make sure he's okay. He is on the outside, at least.

He nods in acknowledgment because doesn't trust the quality of his voice at the moment.

She drives on, seemingly to nowhere in particular. "Hungry?" She asks suddenly, eyes bright, blue, and beaming. And just as rapidly as it came, the panic is gone. He's swept up, out to sea again in the calm of her eyes.

"Yeah," he stumbles out, trying to return the look. He's never wanted to kiss her more than he does right now.

"Good." She smiles.

...

Weevil slides out from under the rusted out Camero he's stripping and wipes his hands on the rag hanging from his back pocket. He takes a look at the screen on his phone before flipping it open and answering. "S'up?"

"Can you believe this? That spoiled white _bastardo_ is fuckin' out already. Weevil, man, we can't let him get away with this shit!" Thumper seethes into the phone from the other end. "I say we go get some fuckin' justice for Felix our way!"

"Whoa, _vato_!" Weevil says quickly, transferring the phone to his other hand and checking over his shoulder for the presence of his uncle. Seeing that Tio Angel was busy elsewhere, he says, "Don't be stupid. You can't just go after Echolls like that. _Los puercos_ would make it their mission to make us an example and you know it. We've got to be smart about this." He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. Sometimes Thumper just did the dumbest shit and invariably, all the PCHers would end up paying. Yeah, he hated seeing that fucking asshole get away with Felix's murder and everything else he's done, and no doubt he wanted Echolls to pay, but he's not willing to bring down more shit upon them.

Thumper clearly missed that memo. " _Carajo con eso_ , Weevil!" He yells. "I thought you were the big, scary badass. But you are just una _concha."_

 _"Chingate!"_ Weevil seethes and clenches the hand not holding the phone. "I'll get that little _carbon_ , don't you worry." A vision of a pesky little blonde pops into his head, and Weevil begins to see a way to get exactly what he wants. " _Esse_ , you got video on that phone of yours?"

Thumper seems completely thrown by the turn of the conversation. "Yeah, man. Why?"

Weevil smiles to himself proudly. "You and Cervando are going to perform a little _Celebrity Justice_ Weevil-style."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	13. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica gets a little bit of one-on-one time with her BFF and her Pops.

Veronica stares at the mirrored stainless steel elevator doors and ponders her own distorted reflection. It reminds her of her life. Still recognizable but shifted and disjointed. As she brushes through her hair with her fingertips, she wonders if it's time to get it cut again. It's growing out too fast. Everything always happens too fast. She shuts the thoughts down about the last time she got it cut before they can creep up. _That part of my life is over,_ she reminds herself. _It's time to move on. Get back to normal._

The elevator is moving slowly, filled with people who enter and exit, going about their own busy lives. _Why did dad have to get moved to the top floor?_ _This is taking forever._ At least Aaron is gone now and that niggling in the back of her mind that was worried he might get loose and confront her here at the hospital is gone.

Instead, she thinks about her dad, and about how much better he is doing. Despite acting like he hated the idea, the book has really lifted his spirits, giving him something to focus on besides the pain from the burns. Alecia has been coming by every day to check on him and for that, Veronica is eternally grateful to her. Again, she has to force out the direction her thoughts take her before she can stray into the 'it should have been mom' territory.

God, her life was a mess. She thought that solving Lilly's murder would make everything so much better, but it still feels like this enormous weight is pressing into her chest. It's not school, she finished her exams, and the summer is laid out wide open. It's not her dad's health. Maybe it's money. She knows her dad has been keeping the hospital bills from her and their savings are getting whittled down since he hasn't been able to work. _Sure could have used that $50,000 now,_ she thinks bitterly.

Whether she can admit it or not, she knows what is bothering her the most. It's Logan. Her feelings for him are such a jumbled mess and she knows she hasn't taken the time to sort them out like she should. Part of her aches for him because of everything he is going through, part of him is so angry at the way he keeps her at arm’s length, and part of her is...she doesn't know. She remembers the way he kissed her last night when he got out of jail. It was like he was drowning and she was his air. She wasn't sure if she was ready to be someone's lifeline. She was barely hanging on to her own life. But then she remembers how safe and warm and perfect she feels wrapped up inside his arms when it's just the two of them and she smile despite herself.

The doors glide open on her floor and she spots a familiar figure hanging at the nurse's station. Exuberantly, she calls out to him, "Wallace!"

"Hey, SupaFly!" He replies, flashing her a smile. "Come to see your BFF after all? Or are you just here for that guy down the hall?"

She hip checks him and beams. "Can't I do both? You know, making me choose between hanging with you and hanging with my dad is like asking me to choose which flavor of Ben & Jerry's I like best. And you know how hard that is."

Wallace just shrugs and pokes her in the stomach. "Like you ever choose just one."

"You know me so well, Papa Bear."

Wallace tilts his head and smiles. "He's doing really good today. Mom said the doctors told him he could go home tomorrow." This draws out a large grin from Veronica. He takes off with her down the hallway. "How are you holding up? Haven't seen much of you lately, you know."

"Missing your BFF time so soon?" She laughs, but her eyes drift off. "I'm alright."

Suddenly Wallace stops her, shaking his head. "Unh, uh. Not gonna cut it. What's going on?"

Sighing, she shoves her hands into her back pocket. "Just busy. I'm a very popular girl, you know. I mean, my social calendar is booked _months_ in advance."

Pondering her avoidance, Wallace whispers slyly. "It's Logan, isn't it?"

She grimaces and nods. "I don't know how much more he can handle. I'm really worried about him."

Wallace clenches his jaw in frustration. "He's a big boy, V. You don't have to solve all his problems."

She bumps his shoulder with her own. "I never knew how much you cared, Papa Bear." Her smile wavers, then falls completely into a frown. "I guess I shouldn't expect you to understand. I mean, you've only seen what he's been like recently. I wish you could have known him before Lilly's death."

Looking at her with concern, he shakes his head. "Yeah, well, for your sake, I hope he's changed. If he ever pulls any of that crap like he did, though, you know I'll beat him down."

Veronica laughs. "Well, you could try. You do have a pretty mean duck-and-weave."

"Pssh. Girl, I got mad skills you ain't even seen. I can take his spoiled white ass." He mimes a dribble and throw as he weaves his way around her in the narrow hospital hallway. A nurse a few doors down looks up at them and glares.

Veronica giggles, and places a hand on his arm in warning. "Okay, okay. But for now, let's just all try to play nice, m'kay?"

"I will if he will," Wallace mumbles.

Veronica pushes him playfully, "Go home, Wallace. I'll call you later."

He nods, picks up his bag and waves goodbye as Veronica enters her father's hospital room.

"There she is!" Her dad exclaims, sitting up from his hospital bed and opening his arms wide. Wallace was right, he was doing much better today and seemed almost back to normal. He only wears a small bandage on his neck and his unbandaged arms are slowly returning to their normal color.

Veronica rushes to him and throws her arms around him. "Daddy! So glad you’re doing better. I hear you're ready to bust out of this joint?" She pulls back and stands there with a stupidly happy grin.

"They haven't made a prison that can hold me yet." Keith replies, the same grin echoed back. "How did your day go? Glad to be out of school?"

She crosses her arms. "Of course. Got my grades back on my exams this morning. Surprisingly, I passed."

"Sure you did. Probably got straight A's, too."

"Well, there might have been an A-minus in there somewhere." She teases.

Keith's mouth falls open in shock. "Say it ain't so."

Veronica swats at him playfully. "So, I was thinking," she says abruptly, "How about we visit Mama Leone's tomorrow to celebrate your freedom?"

He's not fooled, and his eyes light up. "You can't even go a week can you?"

She laughs. "I'll have you know it has been..." she looks at the invisible watch on her wrist, "eight whole days since we had Mama Leone's, mister." Neither one of them mention the fact of why they weren't able to keep their weekly chowfest, but it hangs heavily in the room anyway.

Keith clears his throat. "Well, far be it for me to deprive you any longer. Lasagna and all-you-can-eat-pasta it is!"

She squeals and jumps up and down in excitement.

"Now," Keith interrupts. "Tell me how Back-up is doing. And whether or not there's been anyone visiting the apartment besides Wallace." He stares at her pointedly. A few days ago, she had told him she was back with Logan but that they weren't serious and they were still just trying to work through everything. He hadn't seemed happy about it, but he had kept all his comments to himself so far.

"Well," she says, ducking her head sheepishly, "I did let Back-up have a playmate for an evening."

A small vein pops up on Keith's forehead. "Tell me more." His face remains stern and worried.

She smiles coyly. "Don't worry daddy, I made sure to kick him to the curb the second he was sober enough to drive."

"Logan was drunk at our apartment?"

Unable to keep back the laughter, she brings out her phone and shows him the picture of Dick with Back-up stretched out on top of him. "Not Logan. Dick Casablancas. He just came by to tell me some news that apparently couldn't wait until he was sober. I know I should have made him leave, but the guys like a freakin' boulder. It was all I could do to shove him inside so the neighbors didn't see."

Keith looks at the picture and slowly begins to chuckle. "You know, if you feed the strays, they won't go home."

"There was no feeding involved. Promise." She held up three fingers in salute.

"And I hope you disinfected the kitchen."

"Of course," Veronica agrees.

He leans back, hooking his hands behind his head. "So, other than a small rodent infestation, is there anything else going on I should know about?"

Veronica thinks about Logan's re-arrest, about how the whole town is after him with torches and pitchforks. He was so miserable when she dropped him off yesterday, but he wouldn't talk about anything. He just wanted to kiss her senseless, and unfortunately, it was always one of his better diversionary tactics.

She thinks about Mick and Beth, and all the information she has found out about them over the last few days using the PI database. Although Beth's history is tragic, it is fairly straight forward. However, Mick's history contains far too many glaring anomalies. She isn't sure what that means, but it makes her nervous as to what he is hiding. What they both seem to be hiding.

She thinks about Lana and what she could possibly being doing here in Neptune, now, and about what Logan had said about how she hates him and delights in his misery.

She thinks about all these things and more in the span of time it takes for her to breathe in and look her dad steadily in the eye. Dazzling him with her smile, she replies, "No, Pops, everything is fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	14. Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The vamps convene and make plans.

"Mr. Kostan, it's nice to finally meet you. Although when I heard you were in town, I didn't think I'd be hearing from you so soon."

Mick takes in Clarence Wiedman's towering presence. He clearly has spent time in the military and probably even FBI or CIA. He's intimidating in his starkness. Josef nods and motions the man into the room. Clarence removes his fedora and khaki trench coat and places them formally over a chair.

"I've heard good things, and I'm afraid I have a pressing matter that needs someone of your expertise." Josef says, leaning up against the wall, thumbs hooked through a pair of yellow suspenders over a grey striped shirt. He doesn't miss the sharp glance he gets from Wiedman knows it's because of Logan. "How long have you been in Neptune?"

Clarence stands rigidly, staring them down. "Over ten years. I was hired by Kane Software shortly after it went public."

Josef nods. "So, you are familiar with the goings on in the town, I take it."

Clarence shoots him a pointed look. "If you are referring to the striking resemblance young Mr. Echolls shares with you, then, yes, I am aware."

Content to let Josef lead, Mick had been lounging against the side wall, arms crossed and silent, observing the man's stoic mannerisms. Now, Mick jumps in, eager to get to the reason Weidman was called in the first place. "How well do you know the Echolls family?"

Clearing his throat, Clarence answers. "A couple of years ago, there was a photo of a Josef Kostan in Forbes. Do you recall?" Josef nods while Mick remains non-committal. "I had heard your name mentioned in certain circles and was curious. Let's just say my interest was piqued when I realized that the boyfriend of my employer's daughter was uncannily similar to that picture. However, having no reason to pursue the matter further, and shortly thereafter becoming entangled in Lilly Kane's murder investigation, I decided merely to observe from a distance and see what panned out."

"And what have you observed?" Mick asks, recalling that in his research of the Lilly Kane case, the Kane's had covered up their daughter's murder. Mick wonders about Weidman's involvement. He guesses it was extensive.

Clarence smiles knowingly, showing a bit of fang. "Quite a lot."

Josef pushes himself off the wall and smiles pleasantly. Clarence is smart but young. Younger than Mick by at least ten years. And he is clearly ambitious. _Ah, how easy the ambitious are manipulated._ "Thirsty?" Josef offers.

Clarence nods and licks his lips unconsciously.

"Perhaps I can tempt you. I have some very nice red and a good vintage white. What's your preference?" He goes to his bedroom door and pushes it open revealing two barely dressed freshies lounging on his bed watching a movie. They look up at Josef and smile. "Girls. We have company."

They slide off the bed in unison and circle around both Clarence and Mick, taking turns at letting them both sniff their wrists. Clarence doesn't wait as he buries his teeth into the blonde’s wrist, drinking his fill. Mick, who is back to partially drinking from freshies after several _long_ talks with Beth, follows immediately after with the red head. They both roll their eyes back in pleasure as the vamps feast. Josef, who had taken his fill from both of them an hour ago watches with satisfaction.

When they are finished, the freshies return sleepily to Josef's room and he shuts them back in. He waves Mick and Clarence to the sofa. "Now, CW, I'd like for you to tell me everything you can about Logan Echolls."

"Nearly everything you need to know can be found by reading the tabloids. You hardly need my help for that. What do you want to know specifically?"

Mick steps in. "We want to know if he's a threat."

Clarence looks at Mick then Josef sharply. "Do you mean a threat to us?" The meaning is clear. _Us_ , as in the vampire community.

Josef nods. "Should we worry about exposure?"

Pacing in long strides, Clarence takes a moment to respond. "No. I don't think so. He's a kid. A stupid, punk kid who can't keep his mouth shut and stay out of trouble. But I don't think there is any real threat to you, despite the-" he rotates a finger in a circle around his face.

"What about this case against him? Or Aaron? Could any of that spill over?" Mick asks.

Clarence shakes his head 'no'. "But I'm not going to deny that there might be something going on. Do you know why you and Logan look alike?" He asks Josef, a gleam of dangerous curiosity in his ebony eyes.

Fiddling with the suspenders again, Josef sighs. "No idea. But I there is someone I believe knows something. What do you know about Lana Echolls?"

His smile growing wider along with the sharpness in his eyes, Clarence shoves his hands into his pockets and says, "Ah, I wondered when you would ask about her."

Josef and Mick exchange a quick look. "What do you know about her?" Mick demands.

Smuggly, Wiedman tells them what he knows. "I make it my job to know what is happening in this town. To know _everything_ that is happening. And the appearance of Lana Echolls now after so many years away is unsettling."

"Unsettling how?" Josef asks.

Clarence leans forward, elbows on his knees. "I've noticed things about her in the past. Things only one of our kind would pick up on. She has a way with vamps." He looks at the two men, noticing their nearly imperceptible shift of posture. "My guess, you know what I am talking about." They nod absently. "So, when she showed up again a few weeks ago, I made it a priority to find out what she's up to." He reaches across the coffee table for the attaché case he brought with him, and pulls out a file. "Here," he says, handing it off to Josef. "After our phone call, I had a feeling you might need this. This is all the information on her that I've been able to dig up."

Josef takes a moment to peruse the file, his eyes darkening with each page he reads. Sighing, he hands the file off to Mick and runs his hands through his hair, ruffling it up. Mick stares at the file in his hands as if it might bite back. He frowns and reluctantly opens it up. The fact that it is mostly empty comes as the biggest surprise. In fact, her past looks to be pretty clear of anything suspicious. There's early life in Nebraska, her work as a freshie for Josef, a few years volunteering and working odd jobs, then several years later, her marriage and divorce to Aaron. After that, it's blank. One name, though, stands out. "What's Hecate House?" He asks, looking between the two men.

Catching the pained wince from Josef, he knows it is something not good. "Just your average super-secret secret society. Well, that and a fairly well-organized coven." _Damn, it is witches,_ Mick thinks. Josef stares at the ceiling as he continues, "Had a run in with them a time or two. Let's just say for such nature loving freaks, they are not fans of those of us of the fanged variety." He rolls his head on the back of the couch and sighs loudly.

Picking up where Josef left off, Clarence explains, "On the surface, Hecate House is your standard woman's shelter, one with a strong emphasis on women's rights and children. Their charity work in the community is commendable, but not ostentatious. For the most part, they seem to enjoy keeping a low profile."

"Yeah, unless you have 'the gift,'" Josef interrupts morosely. "Then, you get the chance to see the real meat of the operation: a powerful, selective coven hell bent on wiping us vamps off the face of the earth."

Mick stares at his decidedly worried friend. "How come I haven't heard of them before now?"

Josef shrugs, eyes dark and unreadable in the dim light of the hotel room. "Most of us try to stay out of their way. We have this sort of unspoken rule, you could say. We don't interfere with them, and they don't interfere with us. Unless we piss them off or get their dander up in some other way. Unfortunately, I'm a successful, wealthy, powerful vamp. I'm their 'public enemy _numeral uno_ '." He holds up a single finger and lets in collapse sadly back into his lap. "They probably have wanted posters with my name plastered all over their walls. Voodoo dolls emblazed with my image. I wonder if they sacrifice vampire bats in homage?" He comments to no one in particular.

Looking back at the file, Mick notices that the first mention of Lana going to Hecate House happened about a month after she left Josef's employment. He looks over to Josef, who is still very interested in the ceiling apparently, and wonders again about what their fight was about. For as long as he's known Josef, he has always been pretty respectful of his freshies. The fact that he would piss one of them off enough to cause her to go to the other side like this is very unusual. He sets the file aside in frustration.

"So, are you really saying that Lana's a witch? A vamp hating witch, by all accounts. How does any of this explain where Logan comes in?"

Clarence folds his dark hands in front of him. "I'm not sure. It's a question I have asked myself many times. I know there's a connection, but I have had a surprisingly hard time getting much information about the House. I do know that procreation and children are a high priority among the sisters, it's one of the main reasons we are such an abomination. They hold the sanctity of nature of upmost importance, and because we cannot procreate, to them it means that we are not a natural creation." He sighs, and his black eyes look warily at Josef. "They have a reputation for having a great deal of ability and talent. It is not something I would put past them."

"Have they ever made a move against vamps like this before?"

Josef shakes his head. "No, that is the confusing part. They hate us, they want us gone, but for the most part, they are against any type of outright violence. But they are very protective of their own. _Very_."

Mick stands as his mind takes in all he's heard. "Okay, so we need to get inside, find out what they are up to."

Raising a hand in the air, Josef stops him. "Uh, problem."

"What?"

"Well, first off, there's the small matter of the fact that the shelter and all it's surrounding buildings are completely warded against vampires."

"Warded? How?" Mick asks, confused.

Clarence explains, "Like a great, impenetrable, invisible force field. Vamps can't get anywhere near them. We just get stopped in our tracks."

Mick runs a hand through the wavy hair at the base of his neck, not liking where this is going. Josef jumps in again. "Oh yeah, and the fact that as members of the male persuasion, they won't talk to us outside the compound either."

Defeated, Mick collapses against the couch. Trying to ignore the suspiciously pointed looks he is getting from Josef, he turns his head away until he hears Josef sigh in defeat. He looks hard at his friend with a determined gaze, knowing exactly what he is thinking. Or rather, who. "No."

"Come on, Mick. You know it's the only way." His brown eyes, soften, pleading.

"No. I will not have her go into some coven with a hard-on against vamps, where we can't even get to her if she gets into trouble. Just no." Crossing his arms against his puffed up chest, he dares Josef to try and change his mind.

Josef leans towards him. "Look, I know how you feel about Beth and dangerous situations, but you know she's more than capable. Besides this is the sort of thing she loves."

For several minutes, they wage a staring contest with each other.

"If I may," Clarence interrupts before they can end up in blows. "I might have an idea. If you don't want to send your friend there alone, I know of someone who could go. She's more of a pain than she's worth, but she's resourceful and can get the job done. And you can trust her."

Mick heaves a great breath and finally looks away from Josef. "Who?"

"A girl. A PI of sorts. Her name is Veronica Mars."

…..

Hours later, Josef closes the door behind Mick. Finally alone, he leans his head on the cool metal door and release a pent up sigh. The three of them worked out a tentative plan before calling up a very sleepy Beth and discussing it with her. As Josef had suspected, Beth jumped at the chance to snoop around at Hecate House, despite Mick's constant reminder of the danger she could be in.

Shaking his head, Josef realized at one point, that he probably understood Beth better than Mick did. Beth was determined, she was fearless, and she accepted that her innate curiosity and predilection to danger was simply who she was. When would Mick start to see that? When would he start to realize that he needed to accept his own nature in the same way?

Thirsty, and having sent the freshies home hours ago, Josef pulls out a bottle of the premium bottled stuff he had brought with him and poured himself a glass, mixing in a couple of shots worth of vintage scotch for good measure. Satiated for the time being, he opens the door to the second bedroom and crawls into the freezer he had delivered to the room before he had arrived in Neptune. Money talks in this town, like most, and he was pleased to find it set up and waiting when he checked in yesterday.

Exhausted, he wants nothing more than deep, restful sleep. Unfortunately, the events have stirred too many memories long buried.

" _You have got to be joking!" Lana laughs, reminding him of Lola's, back when they first met. Then, Lola's laughter had been real, full of life and passion. Fire. Lana had the same fire stirring in her blood. Maybe that was why he had allowed her to talk him into this quasi-date. She beamed up at him, wide-eyed and innocent, and he couldn't help but return her smile._

" _I am not. I really did have to wear pantaloons."_

_She snorts again, and turns back to the movie screen, engrossed in the images before her._

_A movie. A horrible, cheesy movie about the middle ages. Of all the things they could have done on their first date, this was what she wanted. All week, she had been ceaselessly questioning him about his early life. It was a never-ending source of fascination for her, his age. He supposed he could understand. She wasn't obsessive in her inquiries, though. Approaching it with enthusiasm and childlike curiosity, it was her earnestness that won him over. There was only one woman he had ever met that had that same combination of fierce passion and naïve playfulness. Sarah. Even thinking her name was painful. Pushing the image of Sarah's beautiful, frozen face away, he drowned out the voice in his head that told him that Lana was just a replacement for the one he couldn't have._

_Watching her from the corner of his eye, she tosses a handful of candy into her mouth and washes it down with cola. Sugar sweet. He wants nothing more than to taste her blood right now, but he's promised himself that he'll hold off until she offers herself to him. This is a date after all._

_She laughs at something on screen and he turns to look._

Moaning in his sleep, Josef's jaw clenches as the dream shifts.

 _On screen, Aaron Echolls is trying to seduce the young princess._ Was he remembering this or was this just his subconscious messing with him?

" _Ooh," Lana coos. "Isn't he just so handsome?" She nudges him playfully in the ribs and Josef returns his attention back to her._

" _So you like them all chiseled and muscly? God, I thought you had standards."_

_Lana slaps his arm. "I have standards! I'm with you, aren't I?"_

_He grabs her wrist then, kissing it delicately. "No," he whispers. "That's not why you're with me."_

_Illuminated by flickers of color, her grey eyes darken with a sudden flush of desire. "Josef," she moans softly, as he continues to rub her wrist with his thumb. "Please."_

_He plants another soft kiss on the vein of her wrist, just under her palm, looking up to see the blood rise in her cheeks, turning it from a delicate rose to a bright his other hand, he strokes through her long locks, twining them around his fingers. "Please what, Lana?"_

" _Please," she breathes again. The movie music swells on cue. "I want you to taste me."_

_He wastes no time, letting the vamp take over, but he hesitates before plunging in. "Lana," he commands, "look at me."_

_Forcing her eyes to roll back to him, she studies his face, trying to understand what he wants. "Yes?"_

" _Lana," he mutters into her skin. Soft, so soft. Her blood smells like candy and untold stories. Perfect. "I love you."_

_In fact, he's not sure what surprises him more; the realization of the true depth of his feelings for her or the sharp, glorious taste of her on his tongue._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	15. Voyeurism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josef just can't seem to stay away from Logan.

"It's going to be fine, Mick. Stop worrying." Beth pats his shoulder and Mick swings her in close.

Growling into her ear, he whispers, "Not going to happen."

She pulls away from him and looks at him in earnest. "The plan is a good one, Mick. I'll be fine. Besides, you've got more important things to do."

Hugging her tighter, he asks, "What is more important than worrying about your safety?"

She playfully swats at him, "You know what I'm talking about. Now," she shoves hard against his chest and he releases her. The absence of her warmth is painful. "I've got work to do, and so do you."

He plants a soft kiss on her forehead before completely letting her out of the protective circle of his arms. She smiles warmly up at him, eyes bright and happier than he has seen them in a long time. _Josef was right,_ he thinks, _she does love this. "_ Why did I have to fall in love with a person who is so addicted to danger?"

"Hmm," she says teasingly, placing a finger on her lips, "must be why I'm in love with you. You're like a bit of a danger magnet too at times."

He vamps out just for a moment, all white eyes and fangs, and chases her playfully around their hotel room. "Hey! I'll show you dangerous."

Laughing, they fall down together on the bed, a tangled mess of arms, legs, and teeth.

"Okay, okay!" She cries, breathing hard, her face a bright shade of red. "Really, we need to get serious. Stop trying to distract me." She plants a long, loving kiss on him, and he moans against her until she finally breaks the connection.

With a groan, he forces the vamp back and unlocks his arms, letting her slip free. "But distracting you is so much fun," he mutters petulantly, pushing back the soft locks of her hair from her face.

With another quick peck, she jumps up out of the bed and goes for her phone. "Get to work, Mick," she calls out over her shoulder, already busy dialing the number she had been given.

"Hello?" The girl on the other end answers suspiciously. She speaks softly, as if trying not to disturb someone.

"Veronica?" Beth asks.

"Who is this?"

"Beth Turner. We, um, spoke the other day."

The girl's voice brightens. "Oh. Yeah. Of course. Wait, why are you calling? Did you find something out about Lana?"

"Yeah, we did. And, well, I think we're going to need your help with this."

"I'm all ears," Veronica says happily.

...

It's like a compulsion. He can't seem to make himself stop. Before he knows it, he's slipped on his $4000 black leather moto jacket and the dark tweed flat cap and grabbed the keys to the Jag. He's outside the window of the sketchy apartment complex before he's even aware of it. _What the hell am I doing?_ His motivations for being here, now, are murky and confusing at best. _This is such a horrible idea._

Regrouping, he focuses his attention through the window, observing the pair inside. Ever since Mick had told him that Veronica was not only their best human connection to Neptune, but also Logan's girlfriend, it was as he was deaf and blind to all else. He knew he just had to see her.

Why he had to see her, though, that was confusing part. The inner debate had continued all the way from the Grande to her seaside apartment:

_She sounds intriguing, and I love intriguing women._

Hmm, partially, but not quite.

_I'm checking her out to make sure we can trust her._

Nope, still not there.

_She's Logan's girlfriend and I want to make sure she doesn't hurt him, that she's good enough for him..._

With a sickening realization that he's has hit the nail on the head, he pushes the thoughts away forcefully.

For him, thinking about Logan has been like walking into a burning building. Flaming, agonizing death around every turn. He was constantly fighting to keep out thoughts like _my boy_ and _my son_ , not to mention feeling a growing need to protect him at all costs. It was embarrassing. And dangerous. He was slipping.

_422 years and I'm losing it over a kid._

And now here he is. Standing outside some little girl's window like a demented peeping tom, waiting to catch just a glimpse into the personal life of the kid. How has it come to this?

The girl in question is busily chatting and laughing with an older, bald man who Josef sensed immediately was her father. Their relationship seems close and easy, and for a brief second, Josef actually lets himself envy it. With his sharp eyes he could pick out the matching burns, nearly faded on her, but bright and raw on him, the only evidence of their shared trauma. He had read the file, knew the facts surrounding those burns, but he hadn't considered the implications. Her father had risked his life to save her. The bitter pang of jealousy returned, and with it, a realization that he had never shared a bond like that with anyone. Sure, he was willing to risk himself for Mick and even Sarah, but had anyone ever done the same for him? His own father, a man of great wealth and power, had barely acknowledged his presence, except when it came to strategic alliances with other ruling families. After all, wasn't that what children were supposed to be for? Josef shook the darkness from his mind and returned his vigil to the domestic scene before him.

Other than their matching wits, Josef saw very little physical resemblance between them. Veronica was short, perky, with wide, sharply blue eyes and flushed pink cheeks. She's joking with her dad about a trip he's making to San Diego tomorrow. Something about a book. And she's telling him about hanging out with a friend at the beach. _Ha! Liar,_ he thinks with a smile. Josef is impressed with her ability. If he didn't know she was going with Beth tomorrow, he would never had been able to sense the lie. It strikes him then, that if she had been a little older, he was sure she would have made a wonderful freshie. He can smell her blood and vitality through the glass and it reminds him of a traveling carnival he visited once around the turn of the century. One end of the fairway held the clowns and taffy pulls, the other side, the freak shows and palm readers. Darkness suffused in light. He can understand why Logan is attracted to her.

Intoxicated on the scent memories, he almost fails to notice the approaching footsteps on the street below. Pulling himself away just in time, he leaps from the balcony to the roof of the joining building.

The scent of a person is always the first thing to hit him, and now without the smoky confusion of the bonfire, he can smell Logan's scent perfectly. Alike and unlike the same scent he had encountered at their first meeting years ago. Now, Logan is deep waters, rushing rivers. Clean and earthy all at once. Dark oceans, mystery and danger.

_Who are you? What are you?_

The feelings of protection wash through him as Logan knocks on Veronica's door. She answers, smiling lovingly up at him. From where he is perched, he cannot see Logan's face, but can feel the intensity of emotions from him at the sight of her. He realizes then that their bond goes beyond mere attraction.

Logan answers her smile with a "Hey," and she takes his hand, signaling to her father that she'll be back soon. They don't go inside, choosing instead to walk to a nearby beach. Josef jumps effortlessly from the roof to follow, carefully sticking to the shadows under the pier.

Swinging Veronica around, Logan pulls her into a heated, passionate kiss. He runs his hands over her back and shoulders possessively. Josef is suitably impressed.

Breathing hard, Logan says, "Sorry, but it's been too long."

She smiles and even in the waning moonlight, Josef can see the glitter of her teeth as she shakes her head. "It's been a day, Logan."

"Too long." He says, dropping his forehead onto her shoulder. He looks up again and says softly, "How's your dad?"

Dragging him by the hand, she finds a dry lump of sand for them to sit down on. "He's good. Really happy to be home. Can't get him to stop going on about how much he missed the smell of the apartment for some reason."

Logan chuckles. "That's because your apartment smells like you."

She swats at his arm. "Softie." Dropping her hand onto his, she tilts her head. "How are you holding up? Have you heard anything more about the case?"

He shrugs. "Nothing new. They won't release the name of the witness to me." Josef can tell, even from this distance, the hard set to his body as he thinks about his own life. "So I'm still under suspicion for murder. And everyone still thinks I did it. I'm expecting a lynch mob any day now. Do you think I should invest in an asbestos suit in case they come for me with torches?" His tone is trying for humor and light, but is falling far from the mark.

She shivers, and he scoots in closer, placing an arm over her shoulder. "I don't get it. Why am I being framed like this?" His voice quivers, and Josef roils back as he is hit with wave after wave of emotion. "I mean...god! It's like the universe has decided to dump all its negative karma points down at once. It's not as if I wasn't feeling shitty enough about Aaron and Lilly," he spits out the names with venom. "No, Logan, now let's see how you do when everyone in town thinks you’re as bad as your old man. Or worse." His back is so tense and rigid, Josef thinks he might have turned to stone. It takes every ounce of willpower he possesses not to cross the divide and just whisk his boy away. _The boy_ , he corrects, clenching his fists in frustration.

"Logan, I..." She falters, at a complete loss. She shivers again, more violently, but clearly not affected by any chill in the air.

They sit in silence, each dwelling within their own murky waters. Veronica is the first to surface. "I'm going to LA with Beth tomorrow."

"What?" Logan stammers.

"She's got a lead on Lana and needs some help getting intel at a women's shelter. She's set it all up. We're just looking into why she spent so much time there both before she was married to your... to Aaron."

Logan shakes his head slowly. "You're friends with this woman now?"

Lightly, Veronica answers, "No, but she needs my help."

"I can't believe you." Logan mutters, the anger rising in his chest. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares. "You were the one who said she couldn't be trusted. She's a trashy tabloid reporter, for god's sake! And now you want to go on some road trip with her. Unbelievable."

Snapping suddenly, Veronica points a finger at his chest. "Where do you get off? I'm doing this to help you. And I would have asked you to come, but you can't leave."

"Yeah, well, don't remind me." His hands slip absently down to the metal box cuffed around his ankle. His tone switches back from sullen to angry like the flick of a pendulum. "How, Veronica? How is going to some shelter in the slums of LA with someone you barely know helping me? Why are you looking into this whole Lana thing anyway? I thought you were trying to help locate this witness?"

"I talked with Beth about the video we saw. She said that she looked into Lana's history and she definitely seems up to something. Something involving her time spent at the Hecate House place in LA. Maybe it's some sort of revenge plot, I don't know. But Beth seems to believe it involves you. That Lana might be using you to get revenge on Aaron somehow. I need to go Logan, I need to find out what she wants with you. Besides, she told me Mick is going to locate the witness."

Running his hands through his hair, he pulls far away from her. "No. No way. You are just going to trust her? Like that?" He snaps his fingers at her face, and she frowns in response. "And this 'Mick' guy? You got him involved without even asking me. What the hell, Veronica?"

"Logan, you don't understand." She replies tersely.

"No, what I don't understand is you," he waves his arms in a circle around her. "I don't understand how you can trust complete strangers but not me." The bitterness spills forth and he chokes it back. Breathing deeply, he hangs his head, and pleads with her. "I want you to forget about this, Veronica. Please."

"I...you know I can't, Logan." She says apologetically, but clearly not backing down. Her eyes glisten in the moonlight, like she's on the edge of tears.

A tense quiet hangs between them as Logan stares her down. "Know what? Do what you want. You always do anyway." Jumping up, Logan turns and storms away, oblivious to her cries for him to stop. Josef watches him go, torn between getting more involved and staying away like he should. In the end, he follows Logan, deciding it best to keep a watchful eye on _his_ boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	16. Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weevil gets his revenge on Logan and Josef just can't seem to mind his own business.

The night was far darker than Logan anticipated. The small thumbnail of the moon barely visible in the cloudless sky. Whatever, it suited his mood. He couldn't believe her. No, it was his fault. He should have known better. _This is what I get for thinking she's changed._

Stubbing his toe on the curb on the way to his car, he looks up at the hazy dark and sighs. _She's just trying to help, and then I had to go and be the jackass again. I should probably call her._ Taking out his phone, he pulls up Veronica's name and shoots off a quick text.

_Sorry - call me._

He thinks about adding more and hastily pushes 'send' before his breasts can fill out and his dick falls off completely. He shoves the phone back in his pocket and continues on his way. _She probably won't even look at it, much less respond_. Fuck it. He wasn't going to spend the rest of the evening worrying about it.

Stubbornly, he made his way across town to a familiar minor-friendly liquor store. Barely sparing a glance at the foreign cashier, he drops a fifty on the counter and takes off with bottle of twenty-dollar single-malt. By the time he makes it to the door of his X-Terra, he was already busy swilling down the oaky liquor.

Josef had hung back, observing from the safety of the car, and endlessly debating whether to step in or let the kid do his thing. _Since when did I become mother hen?_ He wonders. When a rusty white van pulls in beside Logan's vehicle effectively blocking Logan from sight, he groans and shifts around in his seat hoping to catch a better view like an antsy child.

Logan is a good quarter of the way into the bottle before he notices the two masked men approaching. Reflexes slowed, he moves to swing the bottle at them but is caught off guard and easily knocked out by a thug with a metal bar. Before slipping away into aching oblivion, Logan's only thought is about how glad he is for the distraction.

...

For a moment when he wakes, Logan thinks he's back home. A vague, unnamed dread is already upon him as he comes to. He's worried that somehow his dad is home early from a shoot and ready for a fight. Slowly reality creeps back in as his eyes grow accustomed to the low light and he can take in his surroundings. A large cavernous space swathed in darkness is not exactly his bedroom. No, he's not at home waiting for his father to storm into his room and demand his pound of flesh, but the fear is still gnawing at him. Gradually, his dull, throbbing headache reminds him of what happened to him earlier. Now, his body starts to flood with panic. Clenching his hands, he attempts to pull them up to soothe his head, but finds they are firmly strapped to the metal table he's lying on. Nervously, he's pulls at the restraints and calls out in a hoarse croak, "Hey!" His head is foggy from the buzz and the headache and his stomach rolls with the fear. "Hey," he shouts again, trying to steady his voice. "Someone, let me go!"

He's so busy trying to figure a way out, he barely notices the two men enter the room. Clothed in dark hoodies and ski masks, they approach him with cold amusement in their eyes. From this distance, Logan can tell very little about them, except that one hold a small black object and the other a larger silver one. As they step closer into the light, Logan recognizes the silver object's steely profile for what it is and a new wave of panic overtakes him. "Hey, what the hell is this? Come on, let me go!" He hates the way his voice is pitched and desperate, but it doesn't do him any good. "Why are you doing this? Is it money? I have money."

They still say nothing, just watch, arms crossed as if waiting for something to happen.

Logan's throat goes dry as he strains his body against the cuffs. "Damnit, man. Let me go!" In this moment, Logan wishes he had been able to get through the whole bottle of scotch. At least then he could let the anger carry him over to the other side and not the fear.

The one not holding the gun comes over, leaning right up in his face. In a clipped Hispanic voice, he informs him, "It's the people's court, _Junior_ , and you're on trial for the murder of Felix Toombs."

The adrenaline mixed with the alcohol is making Logan's stomach roll and his vision double, but still, he's focused enough to be truly worried about what they could do to him.

"Sorry I don't have a Bible for you to swear on," this Hispanic _gilipollas_ states, "but rest assured I will get the truth, the whole truth, so help me God." He grabs Logan's head, forcing him to look at the man with the gun. "That's your judge and jury." Locking Logan's jaw in a tight squeeze, he says, "I'm the prosecution. And you? You get to represent yourself." He hold open the small black phone in his hand, like he wants Logan to talk into it. "First question for the defendant. What happened to Felix that night on the bridge?"

Shaking his head, Logan pleads, "Look, I don't know." Softer, more determined, he looks the man in the eye and repeats slower, "I don't know."

The thug holds up the phone to his ear, listening for a second. Then, looks to the other man with gun and nods. "He's all yours, Judge."

Stepping in closer, the 'judge' spins the barrel, locks it, and aims it at Logan's hand. Logan hadn't realized until that moment just how attached he was to having fully functional hands and begins pleading with them again. "No! NO! Come on man! Don't do this!" He's feeling a bit hysterical and his voice cracks on the words.

The gun is cocked, he can hear the noise reverberating through his skin like he's already been shot.

But the hammer never falls. All at once, the empty room erupts into chaos. Something blurs past in the darkness, knocking against the thug with a gun and throwing him hard against the far wall. The crunching noise he makes as he crashes down makes Logan's stomach pull up into a tight little ball. A dark blurry shape is now fighting with the other thug, moving around too quickly for him to see. Moving in speeds that don't even seem human.

Suddenly, the _cholo_ screams and Logan's blood freezes. He looks up, right in front of him and sees something he knows will haunt his dreams for years. The man, or at least he thinks it's a man, his back to Logan. He's in a leather jacket with a hat obscuring his face, so it's hard for him to say for certain. Especially because of what the man is doing. The thug is lifted high in the air, feet dangling, and there is an awful gurgling, spurting sound coming from his mouth. Logan can see little rivulets of blood pooling underneath the guy. The man has his face buried into the thug's neck and if Logan didn't know better, he would have sworn the guy was ripping the thug's throat out with his bare teeth. But Logan does no better and people just don't do things like that. Suddenly, the thug stops struggling, the noise he's making cuts off, and he falls limply against his attacker. Logan's pretty sure he knows the reason why. At that point, the man lets the thug drop ungracefully to the ground.

Logan, for all that has happened to him in his short, mostly miserable life, has never been more terrified than he is at this moment. Not even when Aaron was at his absolute worst. But it's not until the man turns around and Logan can clearly see his face, that he completely loses all rational thought. "Goodnight, cruel world," he titters crazily, before his eyes roll back in his head and consciousness leaves him once more.

Josef stares down at the boy, eyes going back from crystal white and fangs retracting back inside his bloodied, gore covered mouth. Gently, he places a hand on the boy's forehead, trying to slick off some of the sweat gathered there in a tender, watchful gesture. Then, he looks back at the two figures lying motionless on the ground and shivers. It's been hundreds of years since he has felt anything close to the rage coursing through him at seeing them pointing a gun at his son. And it's been almost as long since he had lost control and vamped out like that without some thought beforehand. He wasn't just losing it anymore, he had already lost it. His carefully constructed and maintained decorum was decomposing all around him and really, what was so bad about that?

Across the floor, coming from the phone in the dead guy's hand, he can hear a worried voice saying, "Thumper? You there, man? Come on. Answer me!" After a string of Spanish curses, the line goes dead and Josef knows it's time to get this mess cleaned up.

"CW, you busy?" Josef says into his phone.

"Yes. Why?" Clarence sounds distant and harassed, like he's driving in his car.

"I've got a job that needs taken care of. And you are the only one I trust to do it right. Don't worry, I'll make it worth your time." Josef pulls out a silk handkerchief from his inner pocket and begins wiping away the blood from his mouth and chin.

With a sigh that is nearly like a groan, he asks, "Where are you?"

Perturbed by the man's obvious lack of respect for his position, Josef drops the bloody fabric on top of the nearest dead body and answers pointedly. "Warehouse. 121st street. Near an old canning plant."

"Hmm." A pause, before a reluctant answer. "I know the one. I will be there in ten."

When Clarence gets there, Josef has already moved an unconscious Logan to the safety of his car. He knows CW will probably be able to smell the boy's scent once he arrives, but he doesn't want him knowing any more about what happened tonight than he has to. Mick would tear him a new one if he found out about what he's done. It's sad that he can almost hear Mick's patronizing concern loud and clear in his conscious: _Josef, what the hell! You killed two guys and exposed yourself to a human? Nevermind that said human is some unexplained clone of yours. How is he going to react to seeing that? He'll freak out and wind up in a mental institution, and that's if he's lucky. How dare you! Didn't you think about how this will affect his trial or his sanity? Or the vampire community you claim to support so avidly? Don't you ever think of anyone but yourself?_ No, it's better for everyone if this whole night's events remain a secret.

"I know these boys," Clarence comments dryly, looking over their unmasked faces. "Members of a local biker gang. Their disappearance shouldn't raise too many flags."

"Good. Just take care of it. Call me when you are done. I'll have the money transferred to you overnight." Josef says with the same calm authority he uses for hostile takeovers. "And CW, needless to say discretion is paramount. Especially concerning St. John."

Clarence nods in acknowledgment and gets to work as Josef returns to his car.

Checking on Logan's vitals, he predicts he should be out for about another half-an-hour at least. _What am I supposed to do with this kid?_ Obviously, Logan's going to have questions, and he can't be turned loose with what he's been witness to tonight. Josef knows that it is probably best they have a little chat. And for that, they need somewhere private.

 _It's a good thing the kid's big empty mansion,_ he thinks, and starts the car. _This should be an interesting conversation._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	17. Awakenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding out you have a twin is strange. Finding out your twin is a 400-year-old vampire is even stranger.

_"I didn't do it, Veronica. I didn't kill Felix." He tries to convey the truth to her the only way he can. He hopes it's enough._

_"I believe you."_

_Three words, relieving him like a drink of cool water after days of thirst. The pain in his battered body floating distantly away. She believed him. Her eyes darkened and he could see by the way they glittered in the dim light that she was holding back tears. And he knew, she wasn't just saying it to make him feel better. She actually believed him._

_He wanted to kiss her then. Take her in his arms and kiss her as if his life depended on it. He should have, but the tears falling from her eyes and the way she was looking at him was too much, and all the pain and frustration and anger and fear were spilling out of him now. And he was coming apart in her arms. Again. And he couldn't stop it. Couldn't stop himself from giving it over to her. Clinging to her. Because she believed him. And she would make it better._

Logan comes to for the second time that night on his own bed in his own room relaxed and at ease. There's a small light coming from the hallway and he wonders briefly if he left it on when he came stumbling in drunk. The moment ends shockingly fast when he catches a small movement from the corner of his eye.

A figure sits in the shadows of his room on his velvet chair, legs crossed.

"Hello, Logan," a voice says. A voice that can't possibly be speaking, because Logan's mouth is shut and he's pretty sure the voice didn't come from him, so how can he be hearing his own voice from across the room. The figure hasn't moved, but Logan slowly sits up, swinging his legs off the bed, a mix of curiosity and panic washing over him. "Careful," the figure says, "you might not want to get up just yet."

Normally quick with a biting retort, Logan finds himself unable to speak. His hands tremble as they push his body upward and he's worried about falling back down.

The figure shifts slightly like it's about to help him. Logan winces and cries out, "Stay back." He's not even sure why, but he knows he doesn't want the stranger coming any closer just yet. He's not ready.

The figure slumps back into the chair. The odd familiarity of the barely-lit profile is unsettling. "I'm sorry, Logan, but there are some things you need to know, and there is simply no easy way to tell you."

"Let's start with a name and go from there. Who are you?" Logan's voice sounds unnaturally tinny and high in his head, but it helps him separate it from the sound of the stranger's and it is oddly comforting.

The figure moves farther into the light, letting him see his profile in full. "My name is Josef Kostan."

Yep, he really wasn't ready for that. "Holy fuck!" Logan exclaims and scoots back into the bed, scrambling around for purchase in the sheets.

"Hey, I always thought I was rather handsome. No need to be rude about it." Josef comments.

Eyes like a wild dog, Logan pulls himself up into the corner, grasping for anything to hold onto. "What the -? Why do you look like me?"

Josef sighs and moves to sit at the edge of the bed. He's careful to keep his face and body loose and casual, as if Logan could easily make a run for it if he wanted to. He takes it as a good sign that Logan so far hasn't bolted. "Frankly, I have no idea. But I've got some people working on it."

Flooded with questions, his mouth and mind seem to bottleneck and Logan nearly chokes trying to get something, _anything_ , out. "It was you," is all he can manage.

Josef looks him over and turns to stare out the window, running a hand through his hair. This was not going well. "Yeah. I, uh, sorry about that." He shrugs, hoping the kid doesn't try to ask him about exactly what he saw just yet. There was still a lot to cover before they needed to go _there_. The vampire thing needed to be eased into. "Look, kid, it's not like I asked to have a mini-me out there.”

Logan frowns, "Look, Mary Kate, don't call me 'kid'. We're the same age."

Head thrown back, Josef laughs. "Yeah. Not really. I'm quite a bit older than you. But I guess my boyish good looks are throwing you off."

Suddenly, Logan remembers everything that happened at the warehouse. He remembers the blood. "H-how old are you?" He's almost afraid of the answer because he's sure it will mean the man in front of him is crazy. Or he is. Either way, not good.

Josef stands and travels to the window, staring out into the night, his face in profile. "I was born in 1595, you do the math."

Yep. Crazy. The safety of the hallway beacons to Logan, and he slips quietly off the bed. He's almost to the door when Josef just _appears_ right in front of him. "It's rude to leave a conversation without asking first."

Now Logan is almost certain he is the one going crazy. The guy had been facing away from him all the way across his room just a second before. No one could move that fast. The close proximity of the man isn't helping. Up close, the similarity is nothing if not deeply disturbing. Except in the eyes. Logan's pretty sure his eyes have never looked that ancient and knowing and really, really fucking scary. He can feel his legs giving way and he collapses in an undignified heap right in the middle of the doorway. "Well, aren't you Miss Manners," he replies before he can stop himself. Distantly, he's also aware of asking, "What are you?"

Backing up, Josef relaxes his posture into his most non-confrontational stance and smiles. "Ah, finally an intelligent question. I am the CEO of Kostan Enterprises, it's just a little start up venture out of LA. You'd probably be bored to tears-"

"I didn't ask that," Logan cuts in angrily. The shock is wearing off and the extremity of everything that has happened to him has come to take it's place. He manages to reign back his jackass tendencies, though, because he's pretty sure this guy would literally bite his head off. "I asked _what_ you are, not who. You aren't human."

Josef smile widens knowingly, and he leans back against the wall, thumbs laced into his suspenders. "What did you see tonight? At the warehouse. I think you already know the answer."

Running his hands through his hair, Logan shakes his head. "You can't be."

Josef mimics the gesture and shrugs. "Why not? Why is it so hard to believe? Look, I get it. There's been a lot of bad press about us over the years, but it's not really like that at all. I don't kill people unless I have to or I really, really want to. I'm not going to hurt you."

"But-" Logan's mind is racing again with questions, all trying to escape his head at once. There's a pain starting just behind his left eye and he knows a doozy of a headache is sure to follow.

"But what? I killed that guy and drank him? Is that what you wanted to say? Yes, I did. But that was because he held a gun on you and I took it personally."

Confused, Logan manages to stand up and return to the relative safety of the bed. Comfort and familiar territory is what he needs right now. Josef retreats to the corner by the window. "Why? What do you care?"

 _Ah, the six billion dollar question. Why did I do it? Why do I care so much about a kid that isn't, and cannot possibly be, mine?_ Josef shrugs and with a grin, says, "I happen to think you have a face worth protecting."

Something seems off about that answer and Logan puts his hands on his head, pulling at his hair. "Have you been following me?"

"Sort of," Josef offers. "I've got a friend of mine keeping an eye on you. Trying to help you out, actually. But you seem to get yourself involved in all sorts of wacky hijinks."

Friend. Wants to help. He's heard those words before, and suddenly the strangeness of the last few days is starting to make a little more sense. "The PI guy and that blonde chick, Beth. They're with you? You had them spy on me?" His voice rises with agitation. "Did you send Veronica to LA with Beth?"

Josef clasps his hands behind his back, and tilts his head. "Okay, yes, I hired Mick and Beth to come down here and check up on you. Just see what the story was officially. I didn't want you ruining things for me in LA. We vamps have to keep a low profile."

It's the first time the word has actually been spoken out loud and a small sliver of ice runs through Logan's body in confirmation of his fears.

"Mick and Blondie are nosy, but they mean well. You can trust them. As far as the whole Veronica thing? Not exactly. It wasn't my idea."

Logan notices that Josef's whole demeanor has changed. He's speaking to him like they are old, trusted friends. It's casual and relaxed. Familiar even. Logan even starts to feel it. _Hell,_ he thinks, _if you can't trust yourself, who can you trust?_ "So, if they were keeping an eye on me, why are you here? Did something else happen? Does this have something to do with Lana?"

Josef eyes grow brighter in the dimness of the room. He's impressed by how sharp this kid is. "What do you know about Lana?"

Logan shrugs. "Not much besides the fact that she's a bitch."

Josef snorts in reply. "Yeah, tell me about it."

Sitting forward suddenly, Logan narrows his eyes. "You know her, don't you?"

Slowly nodding, Josef answers, "Yeah. Long ago, before she met your dad. We had a-" he waves his hand through the air in a careless circle "thing. It ended badly."

"So you hooked up with Lana-Banana before my old man." Logan clutches at his stomach, feeling like the world around his is tilting at a strange angle. "To be honest, dude, I'm a little bit grossed out by that. Especially considering you look like me. It's too much like Lil-" He cuts off the word, as a wave a nausea washes over him. He jumps up and runs for the bathroom, barely making it before he's spilling his guts into the porcelain alter.

When he's done, he looks up to Josef who is watching him with genuine concern in his eyes. "Feel better?" He runs some water over a washcloth and hands it to him.

Pressing the cloth to his forehead and relishing in the cool, wet relief, he shakes his head. "Not really. I guess I shouldn't mix alcohol and earth-shattering revelations. Must be my tender tummy."

"Sorry. It was a long time ago, though." Josef smiles warmly and bends down to him. The whole look-a-like thing is still oddly disconcerting, but Logan's finding it easier to think of Josef as a separate entity, especially up close where he can really see Josef's eyes. "You're going to be alright." Josef tells him, and coming from himself, or rather, him, he sort of believes it.

Logan lets Josef help him up off the floor and back to the bed. As soon as he is settled, he asks, "Tell me about her. Lana. Tell me what happened."

Josef sighs. "It's pretty ugly. Mostly on my part." He looks to the kid, who is sitting crossed-legged like he's waiting to be read a bedtime story. Finding the crease in his jeans suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room, he continues. "See, what I told you before about me is true. I don't kill people. But I do have to drink blood. Most blood I drink comes from donors us vamps like to refer to as 'freshies.' Freshies tend to be young, willing, and-" Josef's mouth turns up into a one-side grin "female. There are males, of course, but they really aren't my thing. Anyway, I met Lana when she was working as a freshie. She was different then. Straight from the small town to the big city. She was full of optimism and dreams. Wanted to be an actress. Anyway, we got close." His eyes close, remembering the soft pink flush of her cheeks, the easy, gentle smile reserved just for him. "She was easy to talk to and I found myself telling her things I hadn't told anyone in centuries. I realized she was in love with me far too late. She asked me to turn her so that we could be together, you know, forever, but I just didn't feel that way about her," he lies.

Momentarily silent, he's carried away by the force of his memories. _Lana had been hinting around for months about their relationship being something more than just dating, more than just puppy love. And yes, he was smitten with her. But not enough to spend eternity. Or to risk another her becoming like Sarah. He remembers how she took his hand in hers, and kissed his knuckles. "Josef, I love you. I want to be with you," her eyes held back the tears, but her voice shook with uncertainty. She was throwing herself to his mercy and he couldn't even look at her. All he could see was Sarah, lying in that bed, the monitors attached to her arm, her face perfect in its stillness. What if he tried to turn Lana and she ended up like Sarah? Two women he cared for worse than dead. The thought sent him into a spiral of panic and worry. He hardened himself to her pleas, and told himself that she would forget about him, that in the end, it would be better if she left. But he only succeeded in making everything worse._

Josef paces restlessly across the floor, one hand shoved through his suspenders, the other gesturing in wild strokes punctuating his words. "I told her it would never work between us. That's when she started to get a little bit crazy, I think. She would do these weird, obsessive things, like sending off all my other freshies so that I was forced to go to her alone. One time, she even tried biting me back, like my blood would automatically turn her or something. I don't know. I was worried she would do something big, something unforgivable, and a part of me still remembered the sweet girl I thought of as a friend, and I didn't want her to get hurt. So, I became this monstrous thing. Awful. I mean, really terrible. And one night, in a rage, I managed to finally push her completely away." Josef shivers with the flashes of memory he's pushed so deep that he can't bring himself to reexamine them ever again.

Completely entranced, Logan has his sheets twisted tightly around his hands, turning them blue. It's eerily reminiscent of some of his own dark thoughts and actions. "Yeah," he agrees, not even conscious of saying anything at all.

Josef looks up and directly into the kid's eyes and knows that he gets it. He understands. Licking his lips, he finishes, "After that, I only saw her one more time. She was at some party and she got past the security, god only knows how. She found me, alone, and told me that she would make me pay for my sins. That she would have her revenge someday. I thought she was nuts. I had her thrown out." He puts his head in his hands, an affectation of weakness that he normally doesn't let people see.

"Do you think this," Logan motions back and forth between the two of them, "is her way of getting revenge? How? I mean, what's the purpose? How could she even accomplish it? You don't want anything from me do you?"

A sharp, stabbing sense of dread steels itself over Josef. "No," he lies. "I just don't want the mess you're in affecting me. As to how..." He merely shrugs. "I'm not supposed to exist, but here I am. Who can say?"

Taking his time with his response, Logan lets out a deep breath. "Well, I can't promise you that the shit storm that is my life won't affect yours, but I have nothing against you. I mean, why would I? I didn't even know you existed until today."

Steepling his fingers together on his lap, Josef debates telling Logan the truth about what Veronica and Beth are doing. What Mick is doing. About what he really feels. He decides against it. The kid didn't need anymmore stress placed on his life at the moment. "Look, I don't know what she's up to. That's what Mick and Beth are trying to figure out. But it's pretty far-fetched. Then again, she was pretty much shock treatment and straight jacket level when I knew her, so I kind of wouldn't rule anything out."

Logan is quiet for a very long time until he falls against the headboard with a sigh. "Well, I always wanted an older brother. The older sister thing always kind of sucked." He looks up at Josef with a smile.

He smiles back until it dawns on him what Logan just said, "That's right, I had forgotten that your sister is Lana's adopted daughter. Do you think she still keeps in touch with her?"

Logan's eyebrows twitch. "Other than a birthday card or an occasional chat, no, they haven't had much contact that I'm aware of. The Echolls clan have never been ones for showing affection towards each other. Unless there's a camera involved."

Josef's eyes harden with frustration. "Where is your sister now?"

Logan's tone goes sour and his eyes grow to dark coals. "Currently, she's supposed to be here as my 'legal guardian' until the emancipation paperwork is finalized. But she's been whoring herself out for the Today show and Larry King, telling them about how tragic it is that 'dear old dad' has to be locked up like this when he's _so_ _clearly_ innocent, so I don't really know where she is at the moment. Probably doing coke off some wannabe director's nightstand, trying to get herself cast in the made-for-TV version of the Aaron Echolls' Story."

Mustering up every fatherly instinct he can, Josef leans over and puts his arms on the kid's shoulder. "Logan, for what it's worth, I am truly sorry."

Logan shrugs imperceptibly, and huddles his arms around himself closer. "Whatever, dude."

The room is suddenly awash with colors from beyond the window. Josef looks up sharply. "Dawn's coming and I need to get back to the hotel and get some rest."

"Will you burst into flames in the sun?" Logan smirks.

"No, not exactly," Josef smirks back, identically. "But I intend on staying young and wrinkle-free for a while and as of yet, they don't make a sunblock powerful enough for vampires. Trust me, I've had my R & D guys on it for years. Even bought out those jerks at Coppertone at 10-share because they-"

"Um, dude. Focus." The smile on Logan's face seems brighter now and the shadowy darkness is starting to leave his eyes. Josef is struck by how relieved this makes him feel. He allows himself to hope that maybe it will all work out after all.

"Right. Anyway. See if you can get ahold of Trina and find out if she knows anything. Then call me." In one smooth movement, Josef has produced a business card and laid it on Logan's bed. "We'll also need to figure out what to do about anyone who might come inquiring about those thugs that kidnapped you. I've taken care of it for now, but someone was orchestrating the ambush, and he might connect the dots."

Logan stills, remembering that two guys were dead because of the man... thing...vampire, in front of him. He's surprised that this fact doesn't bother him like it should. "Don't worry about it. I think I know who was behind it."

"Right. I'm off, but I'll be back tonight to talk if I don't hear from you before. No doubt, you'll have more questions, and I hope to have more answers." Josef slips on his cap and perches it to the side. Logan follows him as he makes his way to the front entrance of the house.

He's almost to the door when Logan stops him. "Hey, wait."

Josef spins, arms crossed. "What? Did you remember something else?"

With an odd gleam in his eye, Logan rocks back on his heels and says quietly. "Um, before you go, could I maybe... you know?"

Frowning, Josef shrugs and shakes his head. "You know _what_?"

The color rises in Logan's cheeks, but his voice grows more confident. "Um, see them. Your fangs," he smiles widely and points at his mouth.

With genuinely shocked laughter that he hasn't managed in decades, Josef complies. His eyes fade to white and his teeth lengthen into two sharp points. Far from scared, Logan merely nods his head and says, "Cool."

Letting his vamp side retreat, Josef opens the door, looking back with affection. "It was a real pleasure meeting you, Logan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	18. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica starts to wonder what she got herself into.

The first hour or so of the trip is spent mostly in awkward silence. Traffic is heavy along the PCH in the early morning commute. Beth seemed to be taking her cues from Veronica and she was still too wrapped up in her last conversation with Logan to try to be friendly. She knows, deep down, that Logan is just trying to keep her safe, and that he probably had a valid point. But the way he starts going off about her safety when he seems to constantly put himself in danger really just rubs her wrong. Not to mention that it feels a bit controlling. He was just her sort of boyfriend, not her father. It's not like they've even discussed what they actually are anyway. Maybe it was wrong to get back together after all. Maybe this is proof that it was never meant to work out.

A stifling sadness settles over her and Veronica shifts uncomfortably in the seat. Maybe once she got back home safe and sound, Logan would relax and everything would be fine.

Letting out a puff of air, she tries to refocus her thoughts to the mission ahead. She had been so thrilled at getting the chance to use her PI skills again, she barely thought about what she was actually doing here, in a car, with a near stranger, on her way to LA. Maybe it's like Wallace says, that deep down she's just a marshmallow, but really, she wants to trust Beth. She likes Beth. And Mick. There's something about the openness of their relationship that Veronica admires. Or maybe envies. Or maybe both.

Beth seems to sense the shift in her thoughts and clears her throat. "How's Logan? I expected that I would have to talk him out of coming with us. He seems very protective of you." Her tone is light and joking, but Veronica flinches.

 _The girl has good instincts,_ Veronica concedes. "Oh, that's an understatement. If he didn't have the ankle monitor, he probably would have snuck into the trunk or followed us in that stupid yellow banana he drives."

Beth softly chuckles. "He worries about you."

"Yeah," she sighs. "Too much. Sometimes it's a bit annoying." _Why is she telling Beth this?_ Opening up to a total stranger is so not her. "So, how about your guy? He of the broad shoulders and perfect hair. How did you and Mr. Beefcake meet?" Veronica says, trying to break the awkward silence she's created.

Beth turns her head from the road to look at the little blonde seated next to her. "Oh, so are we friends now? Are we gonna do the girl-talk thing?" Beth smiles genuinely though and laughs.

Veronica shrugs apologetically, relaxing. "Why not? You're sound system kind of sucks and I'm not sure Train counts as good music," she says holding up a CD.

"Hey!"

Veronica winks knowingly, and Beth chuckles. "Okay. I'll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours."

Veronica thinks this is a very bad idea. But it's been so long since she's had anyone (Lilly, Mom) to talk to about relationships and boys, she can't help herself. She agrees and arranges herself more comfortably on the bucket seat.

"Well, I met Mick when I was working a story involving a homicidal college Twilight wannabe."

"Ooh." Veronica sits forward like a child waiting for her bedtime story. "You had me at homicidal. Tell me more!"

Beth chuckles again and pulls into the other lane, avoiding a slow semi. "Well, I got drugged and kidnapped and Mick came after me. We had sort of been working on the case together. He saved me."

"So he was your knight in shining armor? Was it love at first sight? Was this while you were with Ben Talbot's office?" She can't help but flash her eyes up at Beth with glee. This was the type of girl talk she could get into.

Something strikes Beth strangely, and she looks over to the girl trying to read her better. "No, it was when I was at Buzzwire. Wait. How do you know I work for Talbot? I've only told you I worked for a DA."

Veronica's eyes flash with satisfaction. She waves her hand casually through the air. "I may have checked you out. What can I say? I'm nosy." Not even remotely apologetic, she continues on, ticking off the details of Beth's life like she's making a school presentation. "Beth Turner, investigative reporter. 27 years old. Journalism degree from Stanford, with minors in Criminology and Psychology. Joined Buzzwire a few years ago and have been linked to the solving of several cases. Then, you quit Buzzwire soon after your boss was killed and joined DA Talbot's office. Nice job solving that one, by the way." She never slows, never relents. "Did you know you have your own groupies? Your name came up in, like, a couple dozen Google hits."

Completely thrown, Beth snorts. "Really? Ew." Her smile fades as she thinks about the ramifications of Veronica checking into her past. "What else did you find?"

Shrugging, Veronica turns away, staring at the passing highway. When she speaks, her voice has dropped all the hard edges. "So, afterwards…how long did it take for the nightmares to stop?" She says cryptically to the window. Beth tenses, knowing exactly what she is asking her.

"A long time. Too long. Actually, maybe not until after I met Mick. He..." Her voice catches, remembering that the last time she had a nightmare, Josh was still alive. _Oh god,_ Beth thinks, _does Veronica know about Josh, too?_

"How did you make it?"

It takes a moment for her to refocus, still thinking about Josh's death. _How did I make it?_ A loaded question if ever there was one, but oddly enough, Beth senses that this girl will understand her answer better than most. "I wasn't sure I was going to, at first. When I was kidnapped, I wasn't hurt or mistreated, but the lady who took me, she was..." _a vampire? Crazy? All of the above?_ "...desperate. She wanted a family she couldn't have, I guess. But I was saved by this...stranger. A man. He came and tried to rescue me, but the building caught on fire. He pulled me out, but she didn't make it." All lies, she knows now, but the truth is too complex and so Beth goes with her old standby answers. Her eyes are half-focused on the road, lost in the swirling eddy of memories. It's not like she could tell her that the woman who kidnapped her was Mick's wife, Coraline, that she wanted to start a vampire family with Mick to save their marriage, and that Mick set his wife on fire to protect her. Or that she didn't actually die in the fire after all and that Beth tried to kill her not all that long ago. No, that conversation would not go well and she was pretty sure Veronica would probably think she was crazy. Some days, her life did seem pretty crazy _. That's what you get for dating a vampire, Beth._

Regrouping, Beth finishes her story. "For so long after that, I used to cry when I saw flames or was in the dark. As I grew up, though, I started to feel...protected somehow. Like I would imagine seeing the guy who saved me everywhere, all around me. Like a guardian angel or something." Veronica stares at her open mouthed and disbelieving. "I know it's silly, but it made me feel safe again."

Veronica swallows thickly, merely nodding in response, but her eyes are dark and far away. _Must be nice to feel safe. To have that kind of faith in people. I used to have that. Will I ever feel that way again?_

Beth is dying to know what she is thinking, but knows better than to ask. She'll talk if she wants to. "So, when I met Mick, he became that guy in my head, I guess. My hero. And in some ways, I guess we just saved each other."

Sitting across the seat, Beth can see Veronica rapidly blinking her eyes, her tiny chest rising and falling erratically. _This girl is tough, she doesn’t let people see her cry, so why is she practically sobbing right now_? "You know, I see a lot of strength in you, Veronica. But letting the pain out, letting someone help you, that's not weakness."

"Yeah," Veronica answers weakly. "That's what they keep telling me. But sometimes the pain is all I have." Beth has nearly given up on hoping that Veronica will keep talking to her, when she says suddenly, "I keep trying to tell myself that everything will be better now that Lilly's real killer has been caught. That I can get back to what I was before. Be normal. But look what's happening right now. What if I can never be normal again?"

"What's so great about normal?" Beth answers honestly. "Maybe that's not what you were meant to be."

Veronica pulls up one knee onto the seat and hugs it. "Sometimes, I just get so tired, you know. Fighting all the time. It's like there's this part of me that won't let things go. I have to find the answers, get to the truth. And it scares me that one day, I'll go too far."

"Veronica-" Beth turns to look at the tiny little girl curled up next to her and she understands now, the strange need people have to protect her. "Things happen in our lives that there are no answers for. And that sucks. It really does. But that isn't what is driving you. I think you're just in pain and hurting and feeling like your world is falling down and this is the only way you can survive. You are a doer. You're a fighter. That's not a bad thing." She sighs and remembers her fights, her headlong rush to get to the truth and what it cost her. "But sometimes, you need to let people in. Having someone to help that you trust can make a huge difference."

"I trust my dad." Veronica offers.

Beth raises an eyebrow. "And Logan?"

Shivering, Veronica grimaces and pulls her knees in even closer. "Logan makes me feel like Mick does for you. Sometimes. Other times, it's like he's this big mystery. I feel so confused around him. But that confusion is also..." she pulls her knee in even tighter and closes her eyes, "it's a rush. I guess. He's so dynamic. Dangerous, even. He scares me, but I can't get enough of it."

It's odd for Beth to hear her deepest, darkest thoughts about her relationship with Mick laid out by someone else. Her tongue goes instantly dry and if she wasn't gripping the steering wheel as if she were melded to it, she's sure her hands would be shaking. "I know that feeling," is all she can manage.

Veronica looks up for the first time and catches her eye. A soft, thankful smile is on her lips and Beth knows all awkwardness is gone between. Like they both have crossed over some sort of unspoken barrier. Beth returns the smile and drives on.

...

The large grey and glass skyscraper they arrive at is not at all what Veronica had expected when she agreed to meet up with Beth's tech guy. A sign on the building proclaims "Kostan Enterprises" in large red letters, but in every other way, the building is almost exactly the same as all the other downtown buildings, angling sharply upwards to the sky, a giant monolith to wealth and excess.

"What is this place?" She asks, craning her neck upwards and shielding the early morning sun from her eyes.

"It belongs to a friend of Mick's. Ryder works for Josef." Beth says, exiting the car as well and leading Veronica into the neutrally carpeted lobby. The grey and glass theme seems to be echoed in the interior, giving the whole place a dull, washed-out feel. To make up for it, though, banks of bright white chairs and sofas line the walls. In the center foyer, a huge chrome blob that she supposes is some sort of art stretches up through the three-story opening. Beth notices her furrowed brow and whispers in her ear. "Josef just had this place redone. Some big name architect from Japan. The lack of color is supposed to 'stimulate the business acumen' or help with the flow of the Feng Shui. Or something." She shrugs and waves her hand across the lobby in defeat. "Mick and I tried to talk him out of it, but Josef wouldn't listen. Don't you just _love_ the ambiance?"

Veronica fake gags, getting a curt chuckle out of Beth. "So, so much."

Taking no notice of the throngs of people hustling to and fro, Beth smiles at the security guard. He nods politely in recognition, not even asking her name, and produces a set of keys like magic from his pocket.

"Are you saying the whole building belongs to Mick's friend?" Veronica whispers thickly, taking in Beth's small smile and nod. Despite years of hanging with millionaire's kids, she has never imagined having wealth quite like this. "What does this guy do anyway?"

"Stocks, mergers. I don't really know." Beth laughs lightly, a small crease of frustration on her brow. She shrugs and looks around. "I don't think I've ever really asked him about it."

Impressed and slightly intimidated, Veronica's naturally observant nature is on overload. She hangs behind Beth, letting her take the lead as she tries to work out what kind of business goes on here from the scattered clues of the lobby. Men and women arrive and depart, some in suits, some not. Everyone seems to be busily on their own mission as they enter the bank of elevators to the left or mill around chatting in the common area by the doors. No one pays her or Beth any attention at all as they slide past the regular employees and head for a private elevator shaft near the back of the hallway.

"Isn't all this a bit... _corporate_ for Mick? Who is this Josef?"

Beth frowns and her footsteps fumble slightly. "Um, Josef Kostan is a very old friend of Mick's. They go way back. He's been willing to help us out with cases in the past, so this is not a big deal." She fails to meet Veronica's eye as they wait for the elevator to descend.

 _She's hiding something,_ Veronica notes before she is momentarily distracted by the security guard slotting his keys into a keypad and the elevator door whooshing open. Disappointed when a bank of liquid smoke doesn't come rolling out with the soft refrains of a four-piece string ensemble playing in the background, she steps inside. Instead, she sees a smoothly-mirrored standard elevator car and feels sort of cheated. The door closes on the three of them before the security guard speaks up. "Ms. Turner, you are to go Josef's office. Ryder has everything set up in there. You won't be bothered." He turns back to the glowing bank of numbers and punches the top one. Feeling the familiar roll of her stomach as the elevator rockets towards the sky, Veronica wonders what lies in store for her on the top floor. She glances over at Beth who seems perfectly at ease, if a little bit distracted. Visits here are clearly a frequent occurrence. Will she get to meet this Josef? Who is Ryder? What kind of PI has a friend who is a billionaire stockbroker?

When they arrive, Beth nods and says, "Thank you, Curtis," and exits the car with Veronica trailing closely behind.

Clearly, the monotone starkness of the lobby did not apply to the whole building. The top floor steals away Veronica's breath. Opulence and expense cover the walls. A 30-foot fish tank filled with exotic creatures separates the secretaries' desk from the main hallway. Beneath her a thick red carpet lines the walkway and what could possibly be a strip of real gold inlaid into the tiles on the wall. She whistles low and long. "Not to quote Keanu here, but _whoa_."

Beth turns her head and chuckles. "Yeah. I know. But Josef is all about first impressions. And showing off. Don't let it intimidate you."

Veronica smiles widely, "Not gonna be a problem. I've dated the son of a billionaire. Trust me, they're just as human as the rest of us."

Beth chokes at the irony of the statement and tries to cover it up with a badly timed cough, while Veronica merely narrows her eyes. "Come on," she sputters. "The office is this way."

They pass by a desk with a woman sitting behind it who looks like she just stepped off the cover of Vogue. Her long, red hair looks so silky smooth, Veronica almost reaches out to touch it. The lady glances up at Beth, smiles pleasantly, and tilts her head at a set of double doors behind her. "Go on in, Mademoiselle Turner," she says with a warm French accent.

Beth nods and pushes open the doors. If Veronica thought the hallway and lobby were decadent, they were nothing compared to the office. At the far end, one entire wall was nothing but windows with a nearly perfect view of the city skyline and the ocean beyond. For a second Veronica felt as though she might be flying. The walls were a dark slate grey with a shimmery hint of silver and blue. Artwork that she was sure she should recognize and burnt orange leather chairs arranged in a semicircle made up one of the other walls. In front of the windows, an ornately carved wooden desk the size of an SUV dominated the rest of the space.

Following Beth's lead, she turns a corner and enters another set of doors to find a room of computer monitors and tech equipment scattered about on a conference table. A man was sitting at the far end, studiously working. Beth raises her voice and says, "Hello, Ryder. Are we all set up?"

Ryder, a rail thin man with an overly large grin and large eyes, stands up and motions Beth over. He looks at Veronica curiously and winks at Beth. "Hey," he says with a hint of lecherous intent, not even trying to hide checking out her body, "you must be Veronica." Shaking her hand, he continues to stare down at her, until she pulls back. "I don't know how Mick does it, but I have got to ask him his secret," he says to Beth.

Beth huffs and shakes her head. "Keep it professional, Ryder. Don't make me stake you."

The man's eyes grow large momentarily before softening into a friendly defeat. "Alright, alright. Geez, Blondie. Like I'd dare to go up against Mick. Or Josef. Or you." He shivers comically. "Blondie, Jr., take a seat." He motions for Veronica to sit down and Beth joins her as well.

The second she sits, Veronica's mouth begins to water at the sight before her. Surveillance equipment, taps, GPS trackers, recorders, cams...the works. All brand new and state-of-the-art. It's like she's walked into an ice cream store containing every flavor known to man with Logan's black AmEx and told every variety was calorie-free.

Catching the ravenous gleam in her eye, Ryder clucks softly and shakes his head. He hands the girls a couple of small electronic devices the size and shape of a watch battery. "Wireless mics. Best on the market." Passing them some adhesive tape, the girls get to work securing them to their bodies in inconspicuous places. Then, he pulls out a small, curved piece of nearly invisible plastic. "A receiver, so that I can talk to you if I need to." He demonstrates how to put it in their ears so that no one can see. He hands over two new cell phones as well. "Untraceable, GPS enabled, and hard-wired with a direct link to me and my team with one push of the button. So, this is for emergency purposes. Also, it's set up to continuously record audio and video for a backup." He slides a tube of red lip stick across the desk at Veronica. "And this is for you."

Arching a brow, she quips, "Pink is more my signature color. But I bet the red would bring out the sleaze in you."

Nearly falling over, he coughs, and tries to quickly explain. "It's a flash drive and a remote connect. You plug this into any computer in the network and I can hack into their files from here." He shows her a quick demonstration on the computer and she nods, mollified.

"This is really great, Ryder," Beth offers, trying to ease the tension. "You've really thought of everything. Thanks."

Ryder shrugs, and his face flushes red. "Thank Josef. He's the one who told me to do whatever it took to ensure your safety. I'm pretty sure my manhood was threatened at some point."

Choking back any comments she could make about his manhood, Beth asks, "So, what have you been able to dig up about Hecate House?"

He shakes his head, motions to the computer screen he's looking at, as his hands tap rhythmically on the keyboard. "Not a lot. Pretty much all above board. If they are up to something, they are hiding it really, really well. I've had guys staking out the compound since you called, but they haven't noticed anything odd. I think it should be fairly safe. But if you do get into any trouble, there's a couple of Josef's security team stationed just down the block."

Feeling pleased, his smile widens and he leans back into the chair. "So, Mick's really letting you take this one on your own, huh?"

Rolling back her shoulders, Beth stares him down. "Mick is not 'letting' me do anything. This is what I do, Ryder. You know, with an attitude like that, it's no wonder you can't get the ladies." She turns to look triumphantly at Veronica who nods back.

"Hey, I can't help it if I have a Nineteenth Century attitude towards women." Ryder smiles toothily.

Beth stiffens and flashes him a 'shut your mouth, human in the room' look. Surprisingly, he gets it and turns his attention elsewhere.

Veronica, not quite satisfied by his silence, says, "Wow, I guess that explains how you got so good at the tech stuff. I'm sure you've had lots of free time to play with your memory stick."

The grin he flashes her threatens to take over his face. "Blondie, Jr., I think I like you! What are you doing after this?"

She mimics his smile, but her eyes remain cold and hard. "Sorry, but I think I'd rather go spelunking. Besides, I'm not really your type."

"Oh, I don't know, you seem like my type."

She shakes her head and gives him her most innocent eyes. "Pretty sure I don't come pre-loaded with batteries or an inflate valve."

Putting a hand on Ryder's arm, Beth intercedes before things can get out of hand. "Alright, enough. We have got work to do. Ryder, as always, it's been...disgusting, but thanks for your help, all the same."

"Anything for you, Beth." He winks.

Throwing off his words with an eye roll, she pulls Veronica up. "Come on, let's get out of here before Ryder loses a testicle and go get our spy on."

...

Even after the early morning commute hours, it takes them nearly an hour to make their way across the city to the less privileged side of town. It only takes Veronica ten minutes to ask about Josef, which, all things considered is impressive that she managed to wait that long.

"So..." She begins, and Beth knows immediately where the question is going to lead. "Josef seems like a really good friend."

Beth nods, offering no further information and proceeds to drive past the urban sprawl of high rises and hotels until the land starts opening up.

"I mean, so what's it like, being friends with Donald Trump?"

"He's not like that," Beth answers. "He's a..." She frowns. Her first instinct was to say a pretty decent guy, but she remembers how readily he committed murder to protect Mick. Sometimes, she forgets that not all vampires are like Mick. And though Josef has his good points, he's still dangerously ambivalent about the whole 'morality' thing. "He's been a good friend. And he'll do anything to protect the people he cares about. But sometimes it's like he plays by a different set of rules than the rest of us."

"Yeah, I know a guy like that," Veronica sighs, clearly thinking about Logan again.

 _Oh, you don't know the half of it, Veronica,_ Beth reflects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	19. Inhalation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan reflects on his life and has a nice chat with Weevil.

Logan awakes after a pitiful four hours of sleep to the sound of a text alert on his phone. Bleary-eyed and still deep within the foggy embrace of unconsciousness, he leans over to his nightstand to see the message on the display.

_Went to LA. Back tonight. Let's talk. ~V_

All remaining sleepiness flees as Logan flings his phone across the room in a sudden burst of anger. _She went to LA after all. Should have known. I can't believe her._

Groaning his pushes himself out of his bed and stalks off to the bathroom fueled by fury.

It's not until he bends over his sink and catches his own reflection in the mirror that the previous night's events come back to him in their entirety. _Holy shit! It wasn't a dream._

He splashes ice cold water over his face and runs it through his sleep-spiked hair in an attempt to rid his eyes of the haunted, crazy look he sees. It doesn't help.

_I was kidnapped and tied down while two thugs played Russian Roulette with my body._

He makes his way to the kitchen, pulling food from the fridge and staring at it.

_I saw two guys killed last night._

He shudders and places all the food back into the fridge and instead decides to just make some coffee.

_They were killed by a vampire. A real, actual vampire. I asked to see his fucking fangs. Jesus Christ! What was I thinking?_

He fills the carafe with water and scoops out the ground coffee into the filter. Suddenly, the coffee spills everywhere. Looking down, he can see his hands trembling with force.

_He looks just like me. HE LOOKS JUST LIKE ME! FuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFUCK!_

Logan collapses against the counter before slowly sliding to the floor, his breath coming in rapid, shallow gulps.

_Get ahold of yourself! You haven't fallen apart like this since Mom. You will NOT do this again._

Still shaking, he focuses on getting his breathing under some sort of control. Breathe in. He pictures Veronica, the way she looked at him on the balcony at the Camelot, hesitant, uncertain, eyes hazy with unspoken desire. Breathe out. He sees her again, running across the soccer field, hair spilling out from her ponytail and cheeks flushed red. Breathe in. Fifteen-year-old Veronica in a tiny bathing suit, laughing and splashing water at Lilly in his pool. Breathe out. Veronica pressing a wet rag to his face as tears spill down his cheeks and he comes apart in her arms. Spinny-kisses and bathroom make-outs. The feel of her small body pushed up against his, his hands imprinting into her satin skin.

After several minutes, he forces himself up on trembling legs, returning zombie-like to his bedroom, and collapses back into dreamless sleep.

….

The next time he wakes up, the sun is arching high in the sky, and his head is throbbing. His mouth feels like sandpaper and everything inside him aches for his normal way of avoidance. Too bad there isn't any more alcohol left in the house.

Showering and changing quickly, he manages to make all the way to the Sak-N-Pak without once thinking about what happened yesterday. Almost. It crops up a couple of times and he is forced to turn his car stereo up even louder. By the time he gets to the store, the speakers are nearly rattling the whole backend.

Despite the likelihood of running into that baller friend of Ronnie's, Logan knows that the owner, Raj is usually cool with him buying whatever, as long as there is a little something extra slipped in with his payment. He's so focused on getting in and getting his booze, he fails to notice the two bikes parked at the side of the building before it's too late.

"Hey, Richey Rich, got a second?" He hears a voice behind him shout, before a pair of strong arms encased in leather push him face first against the cinderblock wall and drag him around the side away from prying eyes.

Struggling to get his arms free, he starts yelling, "Let me go, fuckers!"

A familiar chuckle issues in his ear and suddenly, his blood turns to ice. "Sure. We'll let you go. Just as soon as you tell us where Thumper and Cervando are."

He's spun around and pinned to the wall by that tall PCHer- Hector or Jose or Who-the-fuck-cares- while Weevil half glares, half smiles, both of which mean that Logan is about to get his ass handed to him. Normally, he'd be royally pissed about it and snarking up a storm, but after what happened last night, the guilt etching into his stomach is suddenly making him rethink the whole situation. "Look, man, I don't know who you're talking about. It's not like I pay much attention. You all look the same to me." He tries for believable denial, but Weevil's not falling for it, judging by the growing smile he's getting from him.

Suddenly, Weevil drops the smile and replaces it with frustrated anger and clenched fists. "Really? Cause I'm pretty sure my boys have seen you."

"Oh," Logan barks in laughter, feeling a bit reckless and knowing Weevs is not gonna buy the innocent act, "you mean those friends you sent over for a play date? I told them I wasn't hiring any more landscapers at the moment and must not have felt like sticking around. Hey, if you do see them, tell them I might have an opening as a maid since your grandma was let go."

Weevil lunges forward and socks him hard in the side, knocking the wind out of him. He's still held in place by Hector, whose laughing right into his ear, and Logan can smell the chili-spice of his breath.

Turns out, it didn't take much for Logan's anger makes a glorious appearance. _Where the fuck does he get off?_ Logan thinks, tightening his fists for a fight. _He sent his boys to put a couple new holes in me and now I'm to blame for what happened? Fuck that!_ Then he remembers. _Weevil's boys are fucking dead!_ His stomach churns violently with dread and the fight drains away as suddenly as it came.

Meanwhile, Weevil is running a hand over his bald head and staring darkly at him. "Look, I'm trying to be nice here for the sake of a mutual friend of ours. So why don't you stop pretending like you ain't scared of me and tell me what really happened. Otherwise, I might just have to send you back to her missing your favorite appendage. Although, I'm not really sure she'd notice the difference." His lips twitch in a smirk that Logan dearly wishes he could wipe off his face.

Logan's still angry, only now he's got something to focus it on. "You leave her the fuck alone, _Paco_. She's got nothing to do with this," he spits.

Weevil laughs. " _Me_ leave her alone? What the hell do think I'd do to her? You're the asshole whose father tried to kill her."

Logan's fist has connected with Weevil's jaw before anyone else can react. Weevil steps back, a slight trickle of blood on his lip and narrows his eyes to black slits. He looks up at Hector, who grabbed Logan right after and put him in a headlock so tight he makes gagging noises trying to get air. "Hold 'em. Guess we're going to have to get our answers the fun way." Weevil pulls back to punch Logan in the stomach, but the blow never falls.

"Hey!" Someone shouts, and Logan vaguely recognizes it even though the blood rushing through his ears makes it seem like the voice is coming from a tunnel and his whooshing, partial breaths are only coming to him through gritted teeth. _Thank god, the cavalry has arrived,_ he cheers morosely _._ He uses the distraction to struggle against Hector's grip harder, trying to get enough air so that he doesn't pass out and make a fool of himself, but the kids arms are like steel clamps. He can hear Hector and Weevil arguing with the voice before the arms loosen their hold around his neck and he stumbles into the wall, sucking in air in great rasping gulps.

For some reason, he starts laughing, harshly choking out, "Wallace! My savior," while his head spins and his vision slowly returns. He senses Weevil and his pal move away from him, but he's too busy sucking air into his lungs.

Wallace looks at him coolly, rolling his eyes (a move he has clearly picked up from Ronnie), and turns back to Weevil. "You know, it's not like I care about your little quarrel you have with Echolls," he says, "but I'm the one who would have to clean up the blood on the sidewalk and that would definitely not be cool."

Weevil huffs himself up, looks over at Veronica's sidekick for a second and decides it's not worth it. He pushes Logan back into the wall with a thump, and whispers, "This is far from over, _vato_. You better hope I find my boys safe and sound or this…" he motions his hand between the two of him indicating the beat down he had intended to give Logan, "…this will be continued. And next time, you won't have to worry about hiding behind your girl or her beard."

Logan smirks evilly. "Ah, Weevs," he coughs hoarsely, "I know how much you want me, but I've changed my mind. I can't go to Prom with you after all. Anyway, I'm not sure I can get a tux that matches your particular shade of brown." He smooches the air and watches as Weevils eyes grow narrow in barely contained anger.

Wallace clears his throat. "Um, y'all can get a room if you're gonna keep that up, but I need to get back to work and I really don't want to have to get _anyone else_ involved in your little domestic." There's an implied threat that he'll call the cops, or worse _, Veronica_ , and Weevil and Logan simultaneously step back from each other, leaving the tension thick in the air.

"This isn't over," Weevil snarls, pointing at Logan. Behind him, Hector tries his best to look menacing. "You know something, and I'm gonna find out what, one way or another."

Logan watches in fascination as Weevil's jaw clenches and his left eye develops a little tick. He can't help but smile over it, because he knows Weevil won't dare getting Veronica involved. "Whatever, dude," he smirks. _I've got your number Weevs, bring it on._ Logan slips past Weevil and Hector, following Wallace around the corner, turning one last time to do a jauntily salute towards the bikers, warmed by the angry glares he gets back.

As they near the entrance to the Sac-N-Pac, Logan feels as though he should say something to Wallace for helping out. It's what Veronica would want him to do. It's what a good guy would do. Instead, he can't seem to help himself from reverting back to old habits. His lips curl up into a smirk. "Thanks, dude. Didn't think I could handle Weevs _and_ his monkey. They might have really hurt me."

Wallace stops short and turns on him, a finger pointed at Logan's chest. "What is your problem, man? Is it your mission to piss off every single person in town?"

Logan chuckles with the irony of that statement.

"I have no idea what Vee sees in you." Wallace continues, shaking his head. "I mean, I never thought she was that desperate. So, it must be that you are just so pathetic, she feels sorry for yo ass. Kinda like a lost puppy dog. She just can't resist."

Hearing Wallace voice one of his biggest fears sends him into an immediate rage. "Fuck you, man! You don't know what you're talking about."

Wallace smiles but raises his hands defensively. "Whatev', man. You love her, she loves you. Everything is roses between you, then?"

Clenching his fists tightly to his pants so that he doesn't punch him in the face (because he's positive Veronica would kick his ass to the curb for that), he spits, "Yeah, that's exactly what it is."

Wallace shrugs. "If you say so." He turns back to the door, leaving Logan frozen in his anger. "You know, if you ever hurt her, I'll make what Weevil can do to you look like a child's play. Right?"

Logan is struck with a sudden, sick sense of guilt. Fights, murders, Lilly, Aaron, and now fucking _vampires_. It's all starting to hit him at once. His already queasy stomach decides to do a couple somersaults and Logan knows he's going to lose it soon.

Furrowing his brow, Wallace watches the flush of emotion and pain cross over Logan's face. Hearing Veronica's marshmallowy voice in his head chastising him for being a jerk, he lets himself think about what it must be like to be Logan right now. The pain of losing a parent is something he remembers all too well. Couple that with knowing your dad banged your girlfriend and then killed her. And top it all off with your own murder charge. A tremor runs through him. Against his better judgment, he can feel himself softening his attitude towards the ass. After all, despite the mistakes Logan has made, no one deserves the shit he's had to deal with. He opens his mouth to apologize, but Logan beats him to it.

Looking down at the sidewalk, arms wrapped tightly around his stomach, Logan mumbles, "Look, man, if I hurt her, I'll let you do whatever you want to me." He looks up and catches Wallace's eye, letting him know how deadly serious he is. Then, he hurriedly jumps back into his truck and peels out of the parking lot.

…..

An hour later and half a bottle of some sort of 100-proof in, the guilt still hasn't gone away. He keeps hearing Wallace's voice in his head. Is Veronica only with him because she pities him? It's not like he really has anything else to offer her.

Especially now with what happened yesterday. His already tilted world just slid out of orbit and entered a whole new dimension of crazy. And dangerous.

He's managed to spend most of the day not thinking about just how insane his world is right now. How he has to be mad to know there is some guy out there, who looks like him and sounds like him, but who should not, could not exist. And yet, Logan is absolutely certain of the truth. There really was such a thing as vampires. And, actually, he's okay with it. Admitting that fact actually seems easier than the shitty reality of his daily existence. So, vampires. Yeah. All good. Everything else. Not so much.

And now, Weevil's after him about his two 'missing' friends. Someone is going to get hurt. Probably him (which he's oddly okay with), but if Veronica's around, she could get caught in the crossfire.

He knows he should just give her up, let her get out now before the shit hits the proverbial fan. And anyway, she deserves better than him.

But he can't.

He just can't.

He'll never survive.

Now that Duncan's pulled his turtle act and disappeared, she is literally the only person who believes he's not a killer and not like his fucking father.

And it's weird, but ever since that night on the bridge, he really, kind of, _wants_ to survive.

But the struggle to keep swimming is starting to wear him down. His arms are giving out, his lungs ache, and he knows it's only a matter of time before he dips under and can't fight his way to the surface.

She's the only thing keeping him afloat.

He takes another drink, then another, trying to get up the courage to do the right thing: cut her lose, let her make it out of the wreckage unscathed, and go down with the ship. Alone. But it is So. Damn. Hard.

The sun dips below the horizon, blazing out in vivid reds and violets, and his heart sinks into the abyss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	20. Addiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mick gets his vamp on when he follows a lead to The River Styx.
> 
> *the song is Thin Lizzy's "Jailbreak"*

****

Early morning cases were one of the biggest setbacks to being a vampire PI. Sure, technically he could go out in the daylight, as long as he kept to the shade and took frequent breaks to refill from the stash of blood he kept secreted in his car. But early morning meant he would be out in the sun all day, and his vampire senses really hated that. So it was with a certain amount of reservation that he wound up tailing one Dr. Thomas R. Griffith, plastic surgeon, from his clinic on El Dorado.

After Beth had used her DA connection to retrieve the name of the witness, it didn't take long for Mick to call up Logan in LA and have him run a background on the good doctor. There wasn't much to go off of, but he did discover a small coincidence. Apparently, Dr. Griffith had a daughter that attended school with Logan Echolls. Maybe there was a connection there?

The Griffith's lived in a nice gated community just skirting the border between the fabulously wealthy and Neptune's almost non-existent middle class. Here, with their manicured lawns, two new cars in every driveway, and almost no fear of crime, Neptune's lower classes seemed a continent away. Pulling up the the end of a cul-de-sac and exiting his car, Mick donned his shades and nearly sprinted for the door. That was one of the things he hated about modern neighborhoods and suburbs: there never seemed to be any shade. What little trees were present were still young and barely filled out. It saddened him to remember that once-upon-a-time, a place like this would have been his dream home. Perhaps it was better that those dreams had died. Being with Beth was worth it.

Ringing the doorbell, he could sense immediately that the place was deserted. Pulling out a set of lock-picks, he made quick work of the Griffith's front door and let himself into their home. It smelled nice in here, like cinnamon apples, if a little too chemical for his tastes, and he guessed the doctor was probably a family man. In fact, pictures of the man, his not-quite-smiling wife, and their very sweet looking daughter dotted the living room. It was Hannah who he focused on. Huge blue doe-eyes stared up at him from the frames. A quick tour of her room confirmed his suspicions. Whatever else, Hannah didn't seem like the type of girl to get involved in anything remotely dangerous. All he could find were typical teenage girl things, and a few pictures of a group of girls in track uniforms, holding medals, and smiling huge. She didn't even have a single picture of a boy anywhere. Hannah was a dead end. Too young, too innocent, and too pure.

The doctor, on the other hand, he had secrets. It took Mick a couple of sweeps with his finely tuned vamp sense of smell and sight, but he finally located one of them in the back of the medicine cabinet off the master bedroom. A baggie full of coke. It seemed the doctor had himself a nasty habit.

Carefully replacing the drugs, Mick swiped a small picture off a desk of a young Hannah, baby-faced and happy, and headed back for the doctor's office. It was time to smoke him out.

At noon, Dr. Griffith left the office and headed to a cigar store in a particularly nasty part of town. Passing two specialty tobacco shops much nearer to his office in favor of this one, Mick guessed that he only came here to hook up with his supplier.

As the doctor entered the shop, Mick followed, pretending to browse through the shelves lined with small wooden boxes of cigars, and listening carefully as he spoke to an older gentlemen behind the counter.

"Look, I did what was asked of me, now tell me if he got the message," Griffith snaps, gripping the cigar in his hand tightly.

The older man sneers and says, "You best watch yourself. You owe Liam pretty big and this little favor of yours ain't gonna be anywhere close to paying him off. So, why don't you go back to your friggin' butcher shop and get to work on that. And stop buggin' my ass. When Liam wants to talk to you, he'll talk."

The doctor stares intently for a few seconds, jaw clenched, before turning and wallking out the way he came. On the way through the door, Mick heard him say to himself, "Fuck that asshole. Thinks he owns me for life."

At the counter, the old man watches the doctor go before sliding out his cell and punching in a number. "Hoy, Liam, it's your cousin Terry. Griffith was back again wanting to know about the deal." He pauses, listening, before laughing and continuing on. "Yeah. That's what I said." His laughter simmers to a low chuckle. "Friggin' coke heads. Wouldn't let him touch me with a scalpel if my life depended on it." Another pause. "Yeah, well that's Danny. He'd probably never even notice if he woke up one testicle short." Snorting loudly into the phone, he adds. "Hey, you planning on getting the guys together tonight for a game?" He waits, and nods into the phone. "Yeah good. Meet you at the Stix at six, man."

Mick's out the door before the man even hangs up. He arrives back to the office of the plastic surgeon slightly before the doctor, so he can watch him pull into the parking garage behind the building.

Mick has the guy by the throat a full foot in the air the second he exits his car. He growls at him as he says, "Hello, Dr. Griffith. Actually, I'm just going to call you Tom. Tom, I have a little offer for you. Would you like to hear about it?"

The man's eyes are nearly bulging with the strength of Mick's grasp but he manages to nod and Mick lowers him to the ground, but keeps his hand securely fastened around his neck. "Good. Tom, I want you to pull your testimony against Logan Echolls."

The man's eyes darken momentarily before he can mask it with indignation. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Mick lets a smile play across his lips as he licks them. "Oh, now I know that's not true. I happened to know for a fact you testified about seeing Logan Echolls kill Felix Toombs on the Coronado Bridge two weeks ago. You going to tell me that wasn't you?"

The man darts his eyes away, but a cold sneer crosses his face. "What if it is? I saw what I saw, and the Echoll's kid is guilty as sin."

"Oh," Mick chimes in suddenly, "funny you should mention sin. Some people believe drug use is a sin. But I guess that wouldn't be you, would it?"

The man struggles anxiously in his hand, eyes darting around the empty garage for any sign of rescue, and Mick smiles. "Look, if anything happens to me..."

"Anything like what? We're just talking."

"Yeah, right," the doctor counters coolly. "Talking always involves having your hands at a guy's throat."

"My kind of talking does," Mick advises, flashing him the barest hint of his vamp teeth.

"People will know if I go missing. In fact, they'll know if I don't show up in my office soon," he says boldly. Mick is slightly astounded at the man's arrogance, and decides he's tired of playing nice.

"People? You mean like you lovely wife and daughter?" The second Mick sees his expression, he knows he's got him. Pulling out the photo from the inner pocket of his trench coat, he waves it in front of Griffith's nose. "She seems sweet. Bet she doesn't know about your sins."

The man's eyes flash angry, "You leave her alone!"

Mick nods in sincerity. "Not a problem. Just go and retract your bullshit statement and we'll all go home happy."

He grits his teeth a couple of times before collapsing. "I can't just go and repeal my statement. Liam will kill her." Mick can tell how serious he is by the way the man's blood has turned to ice under his fingers.

Mick tilts his head, taking in the look of dread on the doctor’s face, and the way his heart has started beating erratically. _This guy isn't just scared of this 'Liam', he's terrified._ "Funny about that. This 'Liam' guy was next on my list. Why did he set you up? Why does he care about some kid offing some other kid? Was it about drugs, too?"

Griffith shakes his head. "No, no. I don't know why he wanted Echolls set up, but it was definitely personal."

"Toombs or Echolls?"

Griffith shrugs. "Not sure, I just some rumors floating around his guys about the Felix kid and Liam's niece."

For the first time, Mick releases his grip and steps away, but not too far. "You will go to the police," he commands. "Today. Take back your statement. I will go deal with Liam."

Eyes wide, the guy stutters, "Are you crazy? Liam's bad news. The Fitzpatrick's practically run the entire drug trade in this town and Liam is flat out psycho."

Mick shrugs, unaffected. "You should see me on a bad day."

The doctor moves back, towards his car in a slow unconscious movement. "Fine. Fine, I'll go to the police as soon as I know Liam and the Fitzpatrick's won't be coming after me or my daughter. You have my word."

Satisfied by his answer, Mick agrees, surreptitiously placing the photo back into his coat pocket. "Oh, and Tom. Your daughter deserves a dad who's not a coke addict. You want to protect her? Take care of your problem." With a final meaningful look, Mick walks away. Over his shoulder, he calls out. "I'll be in touch."

…...

The River Stix was exactly as Mick had pictured it. Small and seedy. Full of a bunch of guys thinking they were kings in this town. He's seen it a hundred times before. Strolling right on in through the front door, Mick is immediately assaulted by the smell of stale, cheep beer and blaring rock 'n' roll. Two guys and a heavy-set bartender are at the bar and all turn to take him in. Another two guys are at a table behind him blatantly polishing their guns on the table. And Mick can smell the presence of another three guys in a room at the back of the narrow hallway. Eight guys. An assortment of knives and guns, and the obligatory rifle behind the counter. Mick begins to chuckle at how pathetically easy this was going to be.

A shaggy haired man with a permanent sneer and dark eyes is the first to rise. He squares his shoulders, obviously trying to intimidate Mick with his muscles showcased by the sleeveless shirt he was wearing. Mick rolls his eyes and says, "I'm looking for Liam Fitzpatrick. You him?"

The man's sneer never leaves but his coal black eyes dance with excitement. "Who's asking?"

"Me." Mick says, stepping forward. He almost feels like an electric current is shooting through his body. He hasn't felt this emotion since he took out Tejada and his men at the Hollaback bar. It's the rush of adrenaline that proceeds a really good fight. It's time to allow the vamp out to play.

Suddenly, the song changes and the whole place feels as though it's charged with electricity:

" _Tonight there's gonna be a jailbreak,_

_Somewhere in this town._

_See me and the boys we don't like it,_

_So we're getting up and going down."_

Mick smiles, except now it's all white eyes and razor teeth. But that's not what gets to them, scares them down to their core. No, it's something deeper in his nature that causes the guys with the guns and weapons to pause, reassess, heart rate rising. It's a dark energy that seeps from his pores and radiates from his glance. Whenever the vamp is in control, an instinct old as mankind rises up within them. He sees it now, in the pulsating beat of the veins in their necks. _Fear._ Of the beast. Of him. They want to flee, they know he is a killer and not to be reasoned with. But they can't, because it's already too late.

" _Hiding low looking right to left,_

_If you see us coming I think it's best_

_To move away. Do you hear what I say_

_From under my breath?"_

It's only a momentary response, a flight instinct. A flicker of doubt in the truth of their world. But then their higher selves emerge and reason takes over. The sneering man who must be Liam by the way everyone else seems to follow his example, shakes off the fear first and pulls out a gun from the back of his waistband. Too bad he's only human, he might have had a chance. The first bullet sails by Mick's head while Mick is busy lifting the guy up one-handed and pressing his razor-sharp nails into the flesh around his throat. Five small trickles of blood seep down, tinting his shirt red. He needs Liam alive for now, but that doesn't mean he has to be conscious. Liam's body goes sailing to the far end of the bar, knocking him out as his head connects with the wall.

" _Tonight there's gonna be a jailbreak,_

_Somewhere in the town._

_Tonight there's gonna be a jailbreak,_

_So don't you be around."_

Meanwhile, the rest of the men are starting to rally, spurred on by the fall of their captain. In the time it takes for the bar tender to draw the hidden rifle, aim, and squeeze the trigger, three of the men are dead from a slit throat. Another is thrown against the pool table, his body shattering around the splintered wood. The three not in the room have the best chance, if only they had chosen to run. Of course, they don't. A tattooed guy with long hair flicks a knife at Mick and lodges it in his shoulder. Mick roars and pulls it free, easily spiraling it back into the chest of its owner. The other two try a different approach of flanking him, trying to use their guns as a distraction. A bullet hits his arm, and then his leg.

" _Don't you be around."_

 _Uh oh_ , Mick thinks gleefully. _That's going to require a lot of blood to heal._ He eyes the approaching men like a starving man eyes a three-course meal. He licks his lips, practically tasting the warm, coppery liquid already. Their hands begin to quiver, their resolve weakens, and they know there is no escape. Lightning fast, Mick snags the closest one and sinks in his teeth. It's like tasting Heaven. Why did he ever give this up?

The man stops shaking and falls limply to the floor before the final guy is even to the front door.

He turns to see Mick grinning at his shoulder, only managing a weak scream before he joins the fate of the others.

Mick shudders as the thrill of the blood works its way into his body. True, he missed the taste of food, but blood was so much different than food. Live blood was so much of everything. Full of flavors he couldn't begin to describe. It was sunshine. Life. Energy. Strength. _Power._ Blood was power.

Too soon, the man was drained dry. The bar was eerily quiet, the loud pulse of the music no longer providing the soundtrack. A single heartbeat remained. Liam.

Crouching down by the man's side, he slaps him hard in the face. Liam awakens with a shout and looks up, startled. "What the fuck are you, man?"

Mick tilts his head, left to right, like an animal sniffing at the rise in the man's anger. And fear. "The devil. Come to claim your soul, Liam."

Liam sits up, and blinks the blood streaming down his head out of his eye as he surveys the damage to the bar and his men. It takes all of Mick's willpower not to run his tongue over the blood and lick it away. "You fucker. You killed my family!" He shouts.

Mick pulls him up and flips over a chair to sit Liam on. "Yeah? I'm betting that's not all the family you got. Want me to make it a real family reunion?"

Liam glares, but keeps his mouth shut. "What do you want?"

"The truth, for now. Tell me about Felix Toombs."

Liam darts his eyes away to the bar, taking note that the dead bartender, and smiles back. "Friggin' spic that was nosin' around my Molly? What about him?"

Casually, Mick asks, "Was that why you had him killed? Cause he was after one of your family?"

Liam smirks and nods, "Yeah. Can't have those _vatos_ think they can get with our girls. Making half-breed babies." He turns his head and spits to the side. "The fuckin' bastards think they can nose in on our territory? Take over what we built here in Neptune? No fuckin' way. This is our town and those brown bastards are going to learn to respect that."

"So what was this then? A take over? And why the Echolls kid? What's he got to do with it?" Mick wonders.

Liam's so angry, his face turns purple and his eyes narrow down into two tiny black coals. But Mick thinks the anger is directed somewhere else. Or to someone else. Mick shakes his head. _Faced with certain death and the guys hung up over who's gonna run the drug business in Neptune._ "Of course it is!" He shouts. "I gotta show the PCHers who's really in charge. Felix was an easy mark."

Leaning forward in the chair, Mick lifts his chin, and says, "So who killed him then?"

Gloating, Liam crosses his arms. "Got me a man on the inside. Right under their leader's nose. Second in charge."

"One of the PCHers is working for you?" Mick states, trying to put it all together. "And he killed Felix?"

Liam practically laughs his head off. "Yeah, man! I told him I'd help him get rid of the leader, Weevil. He's been running drugs for me for months. Such an idiot. Got himself a stupid spic name, too. Thumper or Stumper or some shit like that." Liam laughs again, and Mick is starting to think the guys probably more than a little bit crazy.

"And Echolls was a patsy, too? A convenient fall guy for you?"

The laughter and boasting stops as suddenly as it started. Liam goes quiet, and eyes Mick with wary eyes. "Why you care about any of this? Who the hell are you?"

"I told you that, Liam. And I care because I want the truth. I want you to absolve yourself of your sins." The 'before I kill you' is implied, but Liam gets the hint.

"Why should I tell you?"

Mick tilts his head back and looks around the room. He then turns back to Liam, vamped out, and deadly serious. "Because I've got all night, Liam." _See your friends? That was the quick and painless way. You don't tell me, I'll make sure to take my time._

Liam swallows thickly. "I don't know why, but that's what she wanted."

Mick drops the scare tactics and shoots forward, pulling Liam to his feet by the collar of his shirt. "What do you mean, _she_?"

Liam sneers, but continues to talk. "She's had this hard-on for the Echolls since I met her. Don't know why. It was all her idea. She told me about Felix and Molly, too."

"Who?" Mick roars. Liam flinches, but Mick just pulls him up closer. "WHO?"

"Lana. Lana Montgomery," he states.

…...

 _Beth_ , he thinks, rushing from the River Stix to his car. _She might be in trouble. This Lana thing is worse than we imagined._ He tries her phone again, but like before, it just goes straight to voice mail. This time, he doesn't leave a message.

Driving back, Mick replays the day's events in his head. He should be worried about how amazing it felt to unleash the vamp side, but it's pushed far back. There are too many more important things he needs to deal with.

Pulling the micro-recorder from his coat pocket, Mick checks that he has the entire conversation with Liam recorded. Satisfied that Liam gave him all he needs, he pushes the pedal of the car to the floor and heads for the Neptune Sheriff's Department. He tries not to think about what Beth and Veronica are doing. What might be happening to them right now. If they are in danger, if they are safe. He's barely aware of the streets passing by in a blur. His mind is only on a pair of bright blue eyes and red lips. _Beth._

The last fading chorus from the song playing at the bar beat themselves around his brain:

" _Tonight there's gonna be trouble,_

_I'm gonna find myself in._

_Tonight there's gonna be trouble,_

_So woman you stay with a friend."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	21. Revelations, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all witches are bitches.

"So this is what passes for a coven these days?" Veronica comments dryly, taking in the sand colored building and it's brightly colored sign reading: **Hecate House: a Safe Haven for All Women and Children!** On the sign, black silhouettes of woman and children playing were surrounded by a rainbow graphic.

Outside the building in a grassy lot, several children were playing on vividly hued playground equipment.

"I was expecting more 'Adams Family' and less 'Sesame Street'," Beth remarks.

"Where are the altars and black candles?"

Beth shrugs. "Maybe they save the good stuff for the tourist?."

"Ooh!" Veronica exclaims, clapping her hands together. "Do you think they've give broom flying lessons? Because I've been told I'd be a natural." In her ear, she can hear Ryder's tittering laughter.

Pulling her out of the car, Beth peruses over their outfits one last time. On the way there, Beth and Veronica had stopped for a quick bite and to review their backstories. It was going to be important that the two of them be on the same page if they didn't want their covers to be blown. Deep down, she didn't think they would really have any trouble gaining access to the place or convincing these women that they were a couple of girls seeking refuge from their tortured lives. But Mick would kill her if she didn't take every precaution to keep herself and Veronica safe.

_Beth pulls out the fake ID's she had received from Ryder and groans. Snatching them away, Veronica says, "Are you kidding me?" Looking at the names printed on the ID's , she rolls her eyes. "Apparently my name is Sabrina Eastwick and you are Samantha Eastwick. Ryder, don't you think that's a bit obvious."_

_Ryder's voice came over the hidden receiver in their ears. "What? Like witches are known for their knowledge of pop culture."_

_"Remind me to inform Josef of your sense of humor," Beth adds. She was met with dead silence and she knew she had hit the target with her remark. She knew from then on Ryder would keep his comments to himself._

_Looking down at the ID's again, Beth frowns. "Okay, Sabrina, what's your story?"_

_Veronica pauses, a finger to her lips in contemplation. "Hmm. We're sisters, natch. I'm a struggling waitress and you're-"_

_"-unemployed?" Beth supplies._

_Veronica nods. "You've just discovered I've been in an abusive relationship with my boyfriend, Troy, and you've just gotten evicted from your apartment. We have no other family and nowhere else to go."_

_"You know," Beth suggests, "maybe you should take off some of your make-up. I can only faintly see the bruise under your eye and on your forehead." Tilting her head, she presses a finger to Veronica's cheekbone tenderly._

_"Yeah, okay," Veronica shrugs with a nervous smile. "I guess getting beaten up by a movie star will be good for something other than my Fight Club resume." As she looks up at Beth, she arches a brow. "And you should change your outfit. That jacket looks way too expensive for someone who's supposed to be unemployed. It is super cute, though. Where did you get it?"_

_Laughing, Beth strips off her jacket and tosses it across the seat. "Would you believe Target?"_

_"No!" Veronica exclaims, and Beth laughs again. "Gimme!" She snatches it off the seat and stares at the tag. "You have to take me shopping with you! Finally, a girl who understands my fashion philosophy."_

_"You're welcome to borrow anything you'd like. Maybe once we're done here, you could come up to LA and hang out with Mick and I?" The words were out of Beth's mouth before she could think about what she was saying. But when she did pause and think about it, it felt right. She liked Veronica. She liked her sense of humor, her fierce loyalty. Sure, the age difference thing was a little awkward, but what did that matter? Beth hoped that Veronica would seriously consider the offer._

_Veronica's face flushes as she bites her bottom lip, shuffling the ID's around on the table absently. "Thanks," she mumbles, not looking up._

_Recovering first from the pregnant silence, Beth clears her throat and said, "Okay, so I'm gonna go change, and then will head out. I've got some stuff in my car that might work."_

_"Um," Veronica interrupts, her gaze hazy and distant while her hands fiddle with her fake ID, "Were you serious about this place being a coven?"_

_Stalling with a long breath, Beth wonders what to tell the girl. "Maybe. It's just a rumor at this point. I wouldn't worry too much about it. Everything suggests that it's nothing more than what it seems to be. Why do you ask?"_

_Veronica shrugs, and her eyes drift off toward the door to the café. Her voice is low and serious. "I guess I've never really thought about it. You know, magic. Do you think they really believe in that stuff?"_

_The question takes Beth by surprise. Did she believe in magic? The answer used to be a definite 'no'. But dating a vampire had a seriously shifted her view of reality. Could magic,_ real _magic, exist too? "I think that if there are 'witches' there, than they probably do believe it. You know, I've seen a lot of strange stuff, Veronica. Stuff that I never believed was possible before I experienced it for myself. Is that what you want to know? Do I think magic is real?"_

_"Not in the David Copperfield sense… but yeah." Veronica's eyes blank out again as if she was reliving a memory or lost in deep thought. Beth studies her, wondering where she was going with these questions. Blinking a few times, Veronica shakes her head, clearing the lingering thoughts away and says, "I used to have these dreams. About my friend Lilly, after she died. She would appear to me sometimes, when I needed her most."_

_The small café feels like it had closed in around them until they were the only ones left. The clanking of silverware and dishes, the low murmur of the other patrons, even the constant drone of the local news on the TV all become washed out. White noise in the background. "What happened?" Beth asks._

_Shaking her head, Veronica grins, "she used to tell me how to dress." It slowly spread across her lips, lighting up her eyes for the briefest of moments, before dissolving back into the ether. "I miss her. All the time."_

_Beth is at a loss. What do you tell someone who's lost a person so important from their life? What would she need to hear if she lost Mick? Her mind goes blank. "Do you really think she was there?"_

_Veronica emphatically shakes her head 'no' before adding, "I think it was just my unconscious mind trying to hang on to my memories of her. You know, latent neurons firing in times of stress or whatever. Still, I wanted it to be real." She lets out a long, sad sigh. "I want to be the type of person that has faith. But that's not me anymore," she states with a firm shake of her head. Her chest hitches in rapid succession just before her whole body slumps back into the seat. "Sometimes, though….sometimes… I miss that Veronica desperately."_

_Beth realizes something. This is the first time Veronica has ever spoken these thoughts out loud to anyone. Even to herself. She decides to offer what advice she can. Normally, she would reach out and take the girl's hand in her own, but Veronica doesn't seem like the type of person that would be comfortable with a gesture like that. Instead, she leans back, away from the girl and hugs herself. "You know, Veronica, just because you may have imagined your friend's presence, doesn't make her any less real. And really, who's to say it couldn't have been her spirit that you saw. There is so much about the world that we just don't know."_ Like vampires, apparently _, Beth wants to add._

_"Yeah." Veronica wavers for a moment more in that realm of memory before suddenly snapping herself out of it with a visible jerk of her body. "Sorry, got a little Gilmore Girls on you, there." She chuckles lightly and slips the ID card into her jean pocket. "We've wasted enough time in the land of metaphysics. What say we go explore the world of witchcraft?"_

_Beth huffs out a little laughs and nods her agreement. Before they leave the cafe, Beth places a hand on Veronica's shoulder, stalling her. "Look, Veronica, I know you don't know me very well, but I want you to know that whatever you want to say, you can just say it. I'm not going to judge you."_

_Maybe she imagines it, but when Veronica looks up to meet her eyes, Beth can see the relief there._

…

They are met just inside the front door by a tall, heavy-set woman wearing a bright yellow t-shirt bearing the same logo as the sign outside. Striding up to them purposefully, the woman smiles softly while taking in their appearance. Her eyes dart immediately to the small, fading bruises around Veronica's face and arms and she offers her a pitiful look which makes Veronica cringe inwardly. "Welcome to Hecate House, ladies. The name's Nan. How can I help you?" Her tone is loud, but sincere, and Veronica is somewhat humorously reminded of her old biology teacher, Ms. Stanhope, who used to start each class by shouting out - _Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus, Species…Repeat!_ \- until the whole class reluctantly shouted the taxonomic classification along with her. Stubborn Stanhope, she used to call her, but only ever to herself. After all, she didn't have anyone else to tell that year.

The small, bright blue lobby area is sporadically populated with women and children, all of whom seem preoccupied by their own misery. Veronica tries not to stare at their faces. She can read such a mixture of emotions from them-- fear, relief, worry, sadness, happiness, anger--that her chest feels caved in. Kids who should be bubbly and playful sat sullenly in the seats, staring dead-eyed at Dr. Seuss or Harry Potter while their mothers hovered possessively over their shoulders, their own faces a blank mask. _Focus_ , she reminds herself.

Beth takes lead and introduces herself and Veronica as "Sam and Sabrina." Veronica is impressed how Beth has effortlessly she has inflected her voice to appear scared and insecure, just like their cover identities would have been.

In her role as 'the abused girlfriend, Veronica does her best to remain quiet, invisible. Unfortunately, she could play this role far too well. She'd seen the actions and behaviors of battered women dozens of times when her dad was Sheriff and then later as a PI. Eyes down, shoulders hunched, arms around your waist. Jump a little when spoken too, like you're expecting the next blow to come at any moment. Smiles that never come close to reaching the eyes. Keep your hands in your sleeves, shy away from physical contact. Never volunteer anything about yourself. Never put yourself in a position to be noticed.

And then her focus was slipping. To Logan. To the summer before Lilly was killed. His father was in between movies that summer and was always at home. Logan had seemed so different then. At times, he was fine. Playful, flirtatious, eyes sparkling with mischief. But then his mood would change, shift into this snappish, sour thing. At the time, Veronica had thought it had to do with Lilly's mercurial shifts in affection, and Logan's own proclivity to be misanthropic. But knowing what she knew now about Aaron…

She repressed a shudder, knowing she had to keep focused on the here and now. But she couldn't help the way her heart was aching for Logan. How did she never notice what was happening to him? What kind of friend was she?

Nan's voice brings Veronica back to the moment. Unfortunately, she had completely blanked for most of Beth's rendition of their cover story and hoped none of the details they had discussed had changed.

"So, you'll be needing a place to stay," Nan surmises. "That's no problem at all. We could use a couple of people to help out in our nursery if you're up for it. Here at the House our goal is to get you back on your feet and help you find happiness with your own life. We've found that giving women a chance to earn their way, to work, and to make a difference is important in this process." She speaks as if she's spouting a sales pitch, and the way she smiles as she hands a pamphlet over to Beth, makes Veronica want to whip out her most sarcastic comments.

Thankfully, Beth has a better grip on her composure and she thanks the lady for the literature. "Would it be weird to ask if we could take a look around? I kind of don't trust new places and I promised to keep my sister safe." Her voice hovers between nervous and hopeful as she wrings the pamphlet in her hands.

 _Wow, she's really good at this,_ Veronica thinks _. I need to ask her for method acting lessons. Maybe when I go visit her in LA._ It occurs to her that she has assumed already that she will maintain the relationship with Beth after this is over.

_Way to go, Veronica. See, you can overcome your trust issues. Well, some of them, anyway._

A second later, she is already thinking about how Beth probably was just making the offer to visit to be nice.

"Absolutely," Nan agrees. She knocks on a door behind her, letting a co-worker know that she is going to be busy and turns back to them. "I'll be happy to show you our House. In fact, maybe you'd like to meet the founder? She's in her office today and she always loves speaking with new clients. Not that you're just a client. You are our friend." She adds quickly in afterthought, and Veronica bites down hard on her bottom lip. "Anyway, why don't you come with me?"

Beth nods, and shoots a look at Veronica that says: _keep your eyes peeled -_ not that she needed the reminder, she's already catalogued each and every person and object in the room. As they exit the lobby, Veronica feels the first prick of nervous adrenaline shoot through her. Not surprisingly, it's a feeling she's missed.

Hecate House feels much larger on the inside than it looked from the outside. Nan leads them through a series of connected corridors, some with rooms branching off, some just empty. The hallways mostly connect the sleeping quarters for all the women who live there, not unlike a hotel or a dorm. Inspirational posters, landscapes, black and white photos, and prints of famous artwork always grouped by subject all decorate the different hallways. Nan explains the posters as a way to tell which hallway they are in, each hall having its own cutesy nickname. Currently they are in the 'Positively Paws' wing. Veronica stares at a picture of a kitten in a tree and wishes there was a bathroom nearby. It's like she's trapped in a maze. A maze made up of her worst nightmares. She wonders if there is an exit to this hell.

Nan turns a corner and says, "We call this Daisy Lane," motioning to the various framed prints of flowers. The walls themselves are painted a bright fuchsia and the few doors adjoining this hall are actually open. Inside, the class-like rooms are filled with papers, boxes, computers, and shelves of books. "This is our learning center. We hold all sorts of classes in here, everything from school for the kiddies to job training to online college courses. Most of the classes we offer are staffed by former residents of the House. A lot of people who have lived here really feel the need to give back. It's a great system." Nan beams proudly and bounces off down the corridor. Veronica clenches her hands and literally bites down on her tongue.

Turning left, then right, Nan finally comes to a stop at the end of a corridor with a set of double doors. A small plaque with an engraved name is the only indication of where they are. She takes hold of the handle to enter, but changes her mind. "Um, this is Ms. Marla's office. She's in the middle of renovating, so it's probably a mess in there. But you never mind that. I'm sure she'll be happy to meet you and answer any questions you might have."

"Ms. Marla?" Beth asks.

"Marla Peters. She's the founder." Nan's eyes shine with admiration. "Well, one of them. She's such a great lady. I think you are going to love her." She opens the door without knocking and motions for them to follow her in.

 _She was not kidding about the mess,_ Veronica thinks, taking a look around the room. _I think Nan took us to a storage unit, not an office_. What she can see of the office is such a throwback to the seventies that she has to bite back her laughter. Shag carpeting, dark paneled wood walls. Even a couple of avocado green chairs flank the big desk in the center. She's disappointed that there's not incense burning and pan flute music playing to complete the image.

The remodel is clearly going slowly. One wall has been repainted to a greyish taupe color and a couple of newer looking leather wingbacks sit under a drop cloth. The rest of the room is a collection of boxes and plastic tubs, painting supplies, and filing cabinets. There's so much clutter it takes her a minute to locate the elusive Ms. Marla, who is bent over stacks of papers in a corner, sorting them into boxes.

"Ms. Marla?" Nan calls, and an older black woman looks up with a smile. "I've got some ladies here that would like to meet you."

Ms. Marla abandons her sorting job and steps forward. She's dressed in old overalls and a t-shirt and absolutely nothing like Veronica expected. She's even older up close, probably approaching seventy, with very dark skin, and long braided hair held back with a yellow bandana. Hands on hips, her deep brown eyes crinkle with amusement as she looks them over. "Well, Nan. Who have you brought me?" Her voice is light and merry, and Veronica feels such warmth and authority radiating from this lady, she's reminded, oddly enough, of her father.

"This is Sam," she instructs, placing a hand on Beth's shoulder, "and her sister, Sabrina," nodding towards Veronica. "Sam has decided that she needed some help after she lost her job and apartment and then found out her sister's relationship with her boyfriend, Troy, was putting her in danger."

Marla nods in understanding, as if this was an all-too-common tale. "Of course. Well, you've made the right decision. Sam, Sabrina--" she holds out her wrinkled hands to each of them, "--it is very nice to meet you."

If Veronica hadn't been paying such close attention, she would have missed the flash of alarm in Marla's eyes when she shook Beth's hand. Then, almost as soon as it appeared, she furrows her brow, and the friendly expression was back again. But Veronica knows that look. It's a look that says that she knows there's a lie being told.

Wanting to deter the woman from catching any further lies, Veronica clears her throat before interjecting, "Um, I just want to say that I'm really grateful for you guys letting us stay here. We've been trying to find someplace, but, you know, money's tight, and no one else was willing to help." She flashes them her puppy-dog eyes and smiles sincerely. It's the look that wins over her dad every time. They return the smile easily, Marla noticeably softening, and Veronica relaxes. _Crisis averted._

"Oh, no problem, dear. No problem at all," Nan replies bashfully. It's the first time the volume of her voice has dropped to anything resembling normal human levels. "It's just what we do. We help each other, and we've all been in bad places before." She looks to Marla for affirmation, but the older lady doesn't seem to notice.

Beth jumps in. "So what's your story, Nan, if you don't mind my asking?"

Nan's face flushes and she says, "Not at all. I was an addict. Drugs, drink…sex. Been here about 5 years and been sober ever since. This place, they're like family, you know? They look out for you. Care about you. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't come here." She trails off while looking pointedly at Beth, and all Veronica can think is, _Sex? Gross. And she probably doesn't even know anything. We need someone who was here when Lana was._

"That's really amazing," Beth says, laying it on thick. Veronica wants so badly to roll her eyes that she can feel them twitching. "And what about you, Ms. Marla?"

The lady, who up until now, has been silently studying Beth, blinks rapidly before heartily laughing. "Oh, please, just call me Marla. Nan here is about the only one who calls me miss." She crosses her arms and tilts her head in towards Beth, like she going to tell her a secret. "Makes me feel old," she adds quietly. Nans eyes grow wide, but she refrains from commenting until Marla starts laughing again. "Oh, Nan. I am old. Don't mind my teasing you. You go right ahead and call me what you want."

"What if I want to call you a crazy old biddy?" Nan shoots back angrily. Beth turns to Veronica with a small smile playing across her lips. Clearly she's enjoying this as much as Veronica is.

"Well, then I s'pose I'd deserve it. Come on, Nan. Our guests probably think their hosts are a bunch of loons." She sighs and moves slowly towards her desk, indicating to the girls to have a seat in the chairs facing her.

Beth takes a seat, but before Veronica can join her, Marla holds out a hand. "Um, Sabrina. Would it be terribly presumptuous of me to ask to speak to your sister alone for a few minutes? I'm sure Nan here would love to finish giving you a tour of our facilities. Maybe she could show you to the room we have for you?"

Veronica can't help herself as she groans. _I've got to go hang out with Paula Dean over there by myself? Are they trying to get put away for murder?_ She ties to cover the noise with a quick cough, but she flushes with embarrassment at the slip up. Thankfully, neither lady is paying her any attention at all. Then, it hits her what is actually about to happen. Getting separated was not exactly part of the plan. Panicked, her blood runs ice cold as she looks to Beth for instructions. Making signals with her eyes, she tries to ask Beth what she wants to do. With the slightest of nods, Beth instructs her to go with Nan. She then gives a little scratch on her ear, a reminder Veronica that Ryder was still listening should either of them face any real trouble.

Veronica turns to Marla and smiles demurely, fluttering her lashes a few times for good measure. "That'd be really nice." She hopes any nervous looks she's given off only translate as worried about being away from her 'sister' and not being trapped in that Hallway Hell with Nan.

Taking her by the hand, Nan uses her considerable girth to gently prod Veronica out the office door. She calls back into the room as she's leaving, "Don't worry, Sam, I'll make sure to take good care of her."

Beth spins around from the closing door to see Marla studying her with a curious hard gaze. The soft, easy smile she had been sporting is gone, replaced by a wariness that sets Beth's nerves on edge. "Um," she stutters, not sure why the lady had wanted to speak to her alone, "so, I guess I should –."

Folding her hands lightly a top her desk, Marla raises her head and narrows her eyes until they are like small blacken embers. "Let's start with you telling me why you are really here, Beth Turner, and go from there," she states simply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	22. Revelations, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth learns the truth.

_Beth spins around from the closing door to see Marla studying her with a curious hard gaze. The soft, easy smile she had been sporting is gone, replaced by a wariness that sets Beth's nerves on edge. "Um," she stutters, not sure why the lady had wanted to speak to her alone, "so, I guess I should –."_

_Folding her hands lightly a top her desk, Marla raises her head and narrows her eyes until they are like small blacken embers. "Let's start with you telling me why you are really here, Beth Turner, and go from there," she states simply._

Like an expectant parent waiting for their child to confess, Marla crosses her hands lightly on the desk and raises an eyebrow in her direction.

A cold, deep panic settles in on Beth, raising the hairs on her neck. _Oh fuck. What do I do? Signal Ryder, have him send in the guys? How did she know, anyway? Did she recognize me from Buzzwire? What about Veronica? Where did Nan take her?_

Beth was sure her guilt was showing on her face, because her whole body trembled with it. "Look," she began, stumbling around to come up with some sort of a plausible excuse, "we just-"

Suddenly, Marla waves her hand in the air dismissively, eyes losing some of their harshness. "I understand why you're worried. You don't need to be. I'm not going to harm you." Marla sighs heavily. "I know you're here to find out about Lana Perkins. Or Montgomery. Isn't that what she goes by nowadays?"

Without meaning to, Beth nods before catching herself and asking, "How do you know about that?" _And what else do you know?_

A strange grin slowly spreads across the woman's dark lips. Her brown eyes are lit up with a knowing curiosity. "Let me see your arm," she asks.

Surprised, Beth instinctively pulls her arms in closer to her body, keeping them pinned to her chest. "Why," she asks, narrowing her eyes.

Marla sighs away Beth's apprehension and states, "Look, I'm not going to hurt you. If I wanted to, I could have. I just wanted to confirm something. Please, just put out your right arm. My eyesight's not what it used to be."

Hesitantly, Beth lowers her right arm and places it atop the desk, reading herself to snatch it back at any second. Marla peers down, gently pushing up the sleeve of Beth's grey Henley and nodding to herself. "How long have you been a freshie?" She asks, without looking up.

Beth peers down at her arm, at the two small, fading marks left from when Mick fed off of her in the desert. Anymore, they looked like two tiny bug bites. Only a person who knew what to look for could spot them for what they actually were. Her body quivers with sudden revelation. Josef was right. This was the first confirmation that Hecate House was anything but the women's shelter it presented itself as.

"I'm not a freshie." Beth corrects. "I…" she snaps her mouth shut, realizing she shouldn't give anything more away, no matter how trustworthy this woman seemed.

Marla studies her face, dark eyes seeing much too much, and seems to read her meaning anyway. "You're in a relationship with one of them, aren't you?" There doesn't seem to be any judgment in her voice, which confuses Beth. _Weren't the witches supposed to have this big vendetta with the vampires? Didn't they hate vamps?_

Beth nods slowly, but offers no more information.

Marla sighs and rubs her temple as if frustrated. "Is it Josef? Are you involved with Josef Kostan?"

"No!" Beth says more defensively than she intends. "I mean, I know him, but he's not…we're not…."

Again, Marla waves away her question, even though her face looks slightly more relieved. "Look, Beth, I know what you've probably heard about us. I'm not surprised by your reaction. Hell, we've propagated the myth ourselves. But for now, I need you to trust me. I want to help."

Beth sits in stunned silence, trying to work out what to do. _She wants to help? What myth is she talking about?_ She needs answers. "Okay. I just want to know one thing." _More like a hundred things, but I'll take what I can get._ Across from her, Marla leans her body back in the chair and Beth can hear her bones creak. She nods her head once, accepting the offer.

"How did you know who I am? How did you know we are here about Lana?"

The woman exhales, looking away toward a picture on the wall. Beth turns to see what has captured her focus. On the wall in a large black frame, two women, one clearly a young version of the lady in front of her, the other a thin, pale blonde, are hugging and smiling for the camera. Beth turns back, a question on her lips that is preempted by Marla. "That's me and Yvette Coursan. That was taken shortly after we founded this place." Her features are etched with a deep sadness that tells Beth that Yvette is more than likely dead.

Marla pauses, shifting in her chair again, clearly lost in the memory the picture drug up, before continuing her story. "Yvette was a very special woman. She had this uncanny ability to draw you in, make you feel at ease. People just instantly fell in love with her." She catches Beth's confused look and explains, "Not romantically, of course, but in the sense of that you just knew she had a good heart and that she cared about everyone. And she was so warm and funny…" Marla stops her story to dab at her eyes with her fingertips. Beth isn't surprised. The reverence Marla said Yvette's name with indicated clearly that the woman was dead. "She had been married to this successful producer for years. She lived in luxury and wealth, but I know she would have traded all that for a different life. He was a horrible husband to her. He cheated, called her names, beat her. But she stuck with him, not out of fear," she says pointedly, making sure to catch Beth's eye to drive home the point, "but because that was the type of person she was. She would never abandon someone she cared about. And despite everything, she did care about her husband." There is a slight look of revulsion on her face as she talks about this. Clearly, Marla didn't share her friend's forgiving nature. Beth knows she wouldn't as well. Oddly enough, she feels as though she can picture the woman Mala described clearly in her mind. Small, frail, and beautiful with kind eyes and a gentle nature. Briefly, she finds her mind wondering just how long this woman stayed in her abusive marriage, and whether that was the cause of her death.

However, as intrigued by the story as she is, Beth is a little bit confused as to what any of this has to do with Lana or her. Marla apparently notices her confusion and clears her throat to get them both on track. "Anyway, I used to think that her connection with people was just normal, a part of who she was. Like how some people just put you at ease to be around. And she was like that, but we found out there was more to it." She pauses to asses Beth again, leaning in closer and lowering her voice. "Beth, have you ever heard the saying 'like attracts like'?"

 _What did that mean?_ Beth wonders. She had been picking up on subtle hints that the two ladies shared a more intimate relationship than that of best friends. There was something very much like love in the way Marla spoke of her friend. Even so, Beth didn't think that was what Marla was referring to with her saying. "No, I haven't."

Before she continues, Marla reaches over into a drawer in her desk and pulls out a thick leather-bound journal. "This is where I keep my dreams. I've found if I write them down, I'm able to make sense of them a whole lot better." She flips open a page near the back and slides it over to Beth.

Beth looks down at the page. _Dreams? Why was Marla showing her a dream journal?_ At first, all she can make out of Marla's handwriting is a disjointed collection of thoughts, doodles, and scribbled out words, as if she wrote everything down in a terrible rush. None of it makes any sense, until she catches her own name. _What the hell?_ She looks down at the page with more scrutiny and suddenly she sees it more clearly. A strange connection emerges from the doodles and scattered words, like following a dot-to-dot picture: _Beth Turner, baby, lovers, revenge, Lana, spies, help them, danger_ , _death_ , and lastly _Josef_ written in between strange symbols and circled repeatedly.

"What is this?" _And why is my name on here?_ Beth asks, pushing the journal back.

Marla inhales deeply. "My grandmother used to call it 'the sight'. I believe you would call it precognition. I have dreams, visions. I see things that are going to happen."

Beth's mouth goes dry. "You're talking about magic, aren't you? You see the future?"

Marla nods slowly, locking her eyes on Beth. "I do. I saw you coming here today, asking about Lana, and I knew I was supposed to help you."

"Why is Josef's name circled like that?"

Peering down at the book, Marla strokes her weathered cheek. "He's the key. The lynch pin. Something bad, very bad, is going to happen and he's at the damn center of it all."

Beth feels a cold chill seep through her bones. She wonders what Marla means by 'something bad' and desperately wants to ask for clarification. Before she can speak, Marla continues, "As I said before, my friend, Yvette had an ability too." She looks hesitant, not sure if she should go on. Beth sets her jaw and pulls in closer, trying to convey that whatever Marla has to say will be met with an open mind. At this point, Beth just needs to hear it all and she'll sort out how much she believes what she is told later on.

"Not all magic is about casting spells or supernatural events. Some of it is just an amplified state of human existence. Tapping into a part of ourselves that everyone has, but only a few can manifest." Marla drums her fingers against the desk, trying to properly explain what she means. "When we founded this place, we wanted to help women have a better life. We were lucky. Yvette was left with millions after her husband died. I managed to get my father arrested for what he did to me." A look of pure revulsion enters her eyes and then disappears. Beth doesn't have to ask to know what Marla's father probably did. Only the most heinous acts of human nature could cause a look like that.

Marla continues, as though her past is no longer something to fear, and Beth's envies the strength it must have taken her to get past her demons. "Not everyone is that fortunate. So we wanted to give back. We never anticipated what would happen."

"What happened?" Beth asks, utterly fascinated.

"A series of coincidences that probably weren't. I met Yvette on a train as I was heading back from my father's trial and became like instant sisters." Again, the twinkle in the brown depths of Marla's eyes appears that suggests that 'sisters' wasn't the true extent of their relationship. Lovers, was probably closer. "We opened this place years later and immediately, girls like us started showing up. Of course, we didn't realize it at the time."

"Girls like you?"

"Women with gifts, abilities. Magic powers, if you prefer that term. There haven't been many through the years, but it seems to be that a lot of women with gifts find their way here eventually. Even those with an exposure to the magical realm. That's how we started attracting the freshies." Marla's eyes grow dark, sadder with the memory. "I don't know how that happened. But it was like we were some sort of calling beacon for disgruntled freshies. After that, it didn't take long for us to find out about the vamp community. You know how women can gossip," she says with a wry smile. "Anyway, with all the freshies we had living here, we were bound to wind up on the vamp radar sooner or later."

"So," Beth interrupts, trying to sort out what she's learned, pieces slowly clicking into place. "You are not, in fact, a coven, but there are people here with magic or enhanced human abilities."

"Yes."

"And you know about the vampires because you take in freshies when they… what? Quit their jobs?"

Marla laughs somewhat cruelly, causing Beth to shift in the chair. "Oh my, you are wonderfully naive. You must have some sort of special relationship with that vamp friend of yours if that's what you believe the life of a freshie is like." Marla continues to laugh, until Beth gives her an angry glare.

"I don't really know any freshies, but what I've seen from Josef-"

"Oh," Marla nods, uncrossing her arms and waving her hand dismissively through the air, but her tone turns less biting and more humorous, "that explains it."

She pushes back from the desk, rising to stand, and begins pacing slowly behind her chair. Her body moves surprisingly lithely for an older woman. "You know, Josef is an intriguing fellow. I think he likes to pretend that he's all monster, but I think he is far more human than he wants to admit. Still, I do enjoy putting the fear of god in him from time to time." At Beth's questioning look, Marla chuckles and explains. "Not all vampires are as thoughtful as Josef. He takes very good care of his girls. Treats them with respect. Other vamps do, too, I suppose. But not all of them. Some of them are no better than slave owners." A shudder ripples through her body.

And then, Beth understands something that has always eluded her. Josef truly was the exception. Most other vamps treated their freshies like a take-out meal. Or worse, as property. Beth shudders to think what that would be like. Suddenly, she realizes that was what Mick was always so worried about becoming. A vampire with no connection to his own humanity. No wonder he always seemed to dodge the issue when she brought up freshies.

Marla was right. Josef was far more human than he pretended to be. Perhaps that's why she never felt uncomfortable around him like she did the other vamps (all his sexual innuendo aside). The friendship he and Mick shared suddenly made a whole lot more sense.

Josef was a good person. Just like Mick.

Beth brings herself back to the conversation with a start. "So you took in freshies that had been mistreated by their vamps and let me guess, those vamps weren't very happy about it."

Marla nods, "Exactly right." She crosses the room to the picture on the wall and hugs her arms around her chest before Beth notices the stuttered breath coming from her body. She had dismissed what was clearly a horrendous childhood with no more than a flinch, but the loss of her friend was still devastating to her. "And poor Yvette, with her ability to draw people in, her love and kindness, she just never stood a chance." Marla's voice cracks and Beth's heart aches for both these women.

In her mind, Beth can see the scene Marla begins to relay for her: _Yvette, in her beautiful, slender paleness walks through the darkened streets to the shelter one night. It's dark, the building is surrounded by abandoned business and less-than-savory neighborhoods. But her mind isn't on the danger, it's occupied like it normally is by thoughts of the newest girls they've taken in, concerned for their future happiness. She never notices the two men hanging in the shadows. Two vampires. Blood thirsty and looking for some payback for their imagined slight of taking their freshies away._

"She was beaten, raped, and then bled dry." Marla's voice drops to just above a whisper, as she reaches up, touching the frozen face of her friend in the picture above her. "I found her the next morning, not twenty feet from the entrance with a damn note stuck to her chest." Her voice rises in fury and pain. " _Fucking assholes_ had the gall to leave her half naked out on the street with a note like a damn present for us to find. Like they were doing us some sort of favor." The venom and anger in her voice vibrate the air, but Beth can't fault her for it. She feels it too.

"Turned our world upside down. We all became obsessed with justice for Yvette. It was shortly after that I discovered the truth about our magic, how we attracted people with it to us. And believe me, we wanted to put it use. For years, I and others cultivated our powers, studied them, controlled and manipulated them to protect what was ours. We still do. It's never been safe for us out there, but in here, we protect our own. Our fight with the vamps is far from over, but as for me…" She sighs, deflating, and returns to her seat across from Beth. "Years of bitterness and vengeance can take its toll on a person. I came to the conclusion long ago that to honor a person as good and as wonderful as Yvette by turning myself into a creature no better than those that killed her was not what she would have wanted. I will die to protect anyone under this roof, but I no longer go seek out revenge." She looks up sharply, holding Beth steady with a pointed look. "Others feel differently."

In a flood of knowledge, Beth realizes exactly what Marla is talking about. "You mean Lana, don't you?"

Marla nods slowly, her greying brows arching up. She leans forward in the seat, lacing her fingers together again. "Lana came to us right after she left Josef's employment. She was in pretty bad shape."

"Bad shape how?"

"It took a long time to get the full story, and even now, I'm not sure if I ever got the entire truth. Yvette and I had only founded this place a few years prior and the whole 'freshie' concept was pretty new to us. We did a lot of... _recruiting_ from local hospitals, letting women who end up there know they have a place to go if they need it. That's where Yvette found her." Marla pauses to take a deep breath, and Beth wonders if she isn't trying to find a way to soften a nasty blow.

"Lana had been drained nearly dry and left for dead at her apartment. She never said who did it, but I assume it was Josef."

It takes a moment for what Marla said to catch up and when it does, Beth feels a rising fury beat within her. "Wait a minute! You just told me that Josef was one of the good ones, and you are claiming that he nearly killed her?"

Marla nods sadly. "Yes. That is exactly what I believe. But I don't think Lana was entirely blameless."

Beth can feel the indignation and outrage coursing through her. _How dare he! How could he do that to someone? Why did he never tell them that was why Lana was mad at him?_ All the empathy she had for the man flew out the window, and in its place, a tremor of rage took over.

Clearly seeing the distress on her face, Marla quickly tries to finish her story. "Lana was a sweet girl, mostly. She had a real softness to her, she could make you smile even on your worst days. But there was something dark inside her too. I think she was desperately in love with Josef. And for whatever reason, he didn't want to be with her. I think his rejection might have made her crazy."

"Who cares!" Beth shouts, startling herself with her own hostility. "He had no right to try and kill her, no matter what she did."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Marla shakes her head. "Have you ever been in love, Beth?"

Beth's pulsing heart goes completely still. "Yes," she answers slowly.

"And what would you do? If you knew that person you loved was better off without you? Could have a happier, more fulfilling life without you in it?"

Strangely, Beth's thoughts turn to Josh. The guilt that she had long since stored over his death surfaces again, causing her whole body to feel suddenly heavy, like a weigh pressing on her back. She knows exactly what Lana is saying. _What would I have done to keep Josh alive?_ "Anything. I would have done anything."

Marla nods and hums in agreement. "Yes, you would. Anything including pushing that person away, making sure they fell out of love with you so that they could move on, even if you never could."

It's like the woman has read into Beth's soul. Looking back, she knows that if it meant keeping Josh safe, she would have left him. She could have easily done it, too. But her love of Josh was different. Even though she blames herself, she knows, deep down that Josh's death wasn't her fault. Or Mick's. They had tried, and failed, to save him, and that ate at her, but the love she felt for Josh was far less than what she felt now for Mick.

Mick. What would she do to keep him safe? She didn't have to speculate about that. She already knew the answer. She had asked Josef to kill a guy for him. Murder. She had essentially committed murder.

 _Was that what Josef was doing? Pushing away a girl, crazed with heartache, the only possible way he could, by showing her just what a monster he truly could be?_ It made an insane sort of sense. Beth knew Josef well enough to know that if he had wanted Lana dead, she would be dead. And she knew about Sarah, and the guilt he felt for what had happened to her.

"I think you're right. I think he was doing it to protect her, in his own way, from himself."

"Yes. I think that's what happened. It's awful, but love isn't always rational, you know." Her eyes darken with a hard sadness forged by years of pain. "I wish Lana could have seen it that way. She never did. And neither did Yvette."

Beth's eyes widen. "Yvette? The woman who loved everyone?"

Marla chuckles lightly. "I know. But Yvette harbored her own resentments. She was human. And Lana back then was so easy to trust. To care for. It was only natural that they became as close as they did." She twirls her thumbs around her fingers. "Looking back, I wonder too if their bond wasn't because their gifts were so similar."

"Her gifts? Lana's?" Beth asks.

"Mmhmm. Lana had a great natural ability. She had a way over people, almost like she could control them. But it never manifested itself quite like it did after Yvette was killed. After that, it was like something in her just … broke."

The room feels heavy with sadness and memory. Beth desperately wants to stand up, go to a window and suck in the fresh, warm air. She felt like she needed to rid herself of the shadow of these women's lives. But she had a job to do. "What happened after Yvette died? And why did she marry Aaron?"

Marla shrugged, the wrinkles around her mouth smoothing into a hard line. "That I don't know. One day she just comes in and announces that she's leaving and the next thing I know, I see her name in the paper that she's marrying an actor named Aaron Echolls." She practically spits the name out like poison. "At the time I thought it was something akin to what I had been feeling. Months and years of seeking revenge can really take its toll. I thought she just wanted a second chance at happiness. I thought she had let her pain go like I did. But I guess I was wrong."

"Did you ever see her again?"

"Oh, yes," Marla replies. "After her divorce to Aaron she came back to us. I remember that she used to smile all the time, acting like she was glad to be free and wanting to put her past behind her, but that smile never reached her eyes. That sweetness I used to so admire about her was gone, too. But I was so busy those days. We were expanding, adding new clients all the time, and I couldn't watch out for her like I wanted to. I wasn't able to be there for her like she needed."

Beth's heart rate feels erratic, like it does every time she's about to break a story or find that missing clue in a case. Mo, her former boss at Buzzwire, used to call it her 'bitch in heat' look. She's close to something now, but what? "Did she still talk about getting back at the vampires?"

"No," Marla says, licking her lips in a gesture of frustration. "That was the weird thing. She never talked about Yvette or vampires again. When she came back, all she could talk about was children."

Like the tumbler of a lock clicking into place, Beth knows this is the clue to why Lana has returned. She is so close to the truth now, she can taste it. She's practically salivating. "Children? Why?"

"I guess that one of the reasons Aaron left her was that Lana couldn't have kids."

"Yeah, but I thought they adopted."

Nodding, Marla agrees, but adds, "Yes, they did, but Lana said that Aaron wanted more. He wanted his own child. She was so devastated when she found out she couldn't bear children. She told me that raising her daughter had given her a whole new perspective in life. I suggested she give something back. That's why I found her a job at Libera. We've sent a lot of girls to them. It's a good place to work. And that seemed to make her really happy. Eventually, she moved on, like I always wanted her to. It's what we encourage our girls to do. Move on from us, find what makes you _you_ and live your life. When she left, I thought everything would be okay for her." She inhales again, but this time, it’s unsteady as she looks pointedly down at her journal. "I haven't heard from her for years. I thought it was all okay. But then I had that dream."

No longer skeptical, Beth places her hand gently over Marla's weathered knuckles, and asks, "What did you see?"

A look of momentary horror darkens Marla's eyes to black as she relives her vision. Her voice, when she speaks, almost sounds as if it's coming from a tunnel, or from far away. But that doesn't make it any less frightening. "She's just been pretending. She's been hiding who she really is from everyone, planning this scheme of hers for years. She's going to have her revenge against those people who hurt her. I don't know how, but she's gotten stronger. Her magic is much stronger than I ever realized."

"You mentioned something earlier about her having the ability to manipulate people. Does that have something to do with all this?" She doesn't even know why, but suddenly, Beth's almost afraid of the answer.

Marla studies her for a moment, tilting her head at angle. What she is searching for she must find, because she finally replies, in a cool, steady voice, "Yes, she can manipulate people, more specifically, their emotions. Or at least she could. But her true power was always over the vamps. She can control them physically as well as emotionally." _So that's what happened to Mick and Josef, why Mick couldn't remember and Josef wasn't able to move,_ Beth realizes.

"And there's more." Marla twists her hand around until now she's the one grabbing onto Beth. "In my dream, I saw her doing something dark and twisted with her magic. Years’ worth of darkness lingers on her skin, like a tattoo. She used her magic for something vile, evil... And it all has something to do with a child."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?


	23. Revelations, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica Mars does not believe in magic. She. Does. Not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is--The very LOOONG awaited next chapter! I had so much fun writing this one. I loved Ryder in Moonlight and could just so easily see tearing him apart and having a sass-off with him, that I knew I had to include it somewhere. Also, this is the start of the final few chapters. I wish I could be more specific about when the next one will be done, but I promise I won't take off a year and a half between anymore >:( 
> 
> Please let me know what you think or any theories you might have about what will happen! I love hearing them and it definitely keeps me motivated. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and your support!

Nan is one of those people who would talk to an empty room just to hear the sound of her own voice, Veronica realizes. She has been mindlessly spewing forth facts about the Hecate House and its inhabitants nonstop since she left Marla's office. Too bad almost none of the information has been relevant.

In the thirty minutes she has been wondering around the building, Veronica has come to several conclusions: A) There is no real danger from anyone here; B)the whole idea of this place being some sort of coven is ridiculous and she was a total fool for buying into it; and C) if Nan doesn't stop talking soon, she might just have to claw her ears off for a little silence.

There is one good thing about Nan's incessant droning—it gives Veronica a chance to snoop and observe, so that this time through the building, the endless maze of corridors seems a little less confusing, and Veronica can feel her nerves settling down, even while her annoyance levels have been steadily rising. Surprisingly, she has seen very few actual patrons of the House since the lobby. Aside from a few children running down the hallways, a couple of older ladies laughing and strolling around, and the ghostly apparitions of battered woman who seemed to haunt the corridor where the rooms were, there was essentially no one. Nan was quick to explain this away by spouting a vigorous theory about how work was important and leading normal lives was essential to a person's sense of worth.

Just as Veronica was fighting off yet another urge to rip down one of the posters on the wall and bash it over Nan's head, Ryder, who has been complete silent until now, buzzes in her ear. "You know, Blondie Jr., as fascinating as this all is, do you think you could maybe, possibly, do the job you came here to do?"

Veronica wants so badly to tell him to stick it because no one wants to get out of this place more than her, but she can't. And unfortunately, Ryder's right, she has a job she needs to do. So, deciding she needs to push this thing along, she coughs politely until Nan hears her and turns around.

"What is it, dear?" Nan simpers, talking to her like she's a preschooler.

Digging her nails into the fleshy parts of her palm in an effort to remain calm, Veronica bats her eyes and smiles demurely. "Um, excuse me, Nan. But could you maybe show me where the bathroom is? I've had to go so much lately…I'm not sure why."

Of all the endless talking, it never once had occurred to the lady to ask about Veronica's needs. "Of course, Sabrina dear! There's one just down this way," she begins walking rapidly again, swishing her enormous girth at a pace that would have made a sprinter proud, with Veronica trailing behind.

Turning a corner, Nan stops so suddenly that Veronica literally bumps right into her blubbery mass. "Did you say you've had to go a lot more frequently lately?"

Veronica nods slightly, appearing to fidget with the hem of her t-shirt when Nan turns to look at her. A small smile plays on the woman's lips and Veronica knows she's got the woman completely on the hook. _Time to reel this fish in._ "Yeah, about the last two weeks or so. I don't know, I mean, I think it's just a bladder infection or something. I missed my last period, too, so…" She waves her hand not playing with her shirt and shrugs.

Nan's eyes light up like Christmas at this, and she exclaims, "Oh, my! Sabrina, is it possible… could you be… you know… pregnant?"

Veronica looks down at her stomach and back up, keeping her face a mask of shock and confusion. "Pregnant? Really? I mean, Troy always wanted us to do it without a condom. He said it felt better that way. But he told me he couldn't have kids." She wonders if adding a pout would be overkill at this point.

Nan looks at her like she wants to pull her into a giant bear hug and as Nan's arms reach forward, suddenly Veronica thinks that the pregnancy angle might have been a bad idea. Veronica pulls back as much as possible, awkwardly preparing herself for the inevitable. Luckily, Veronica looks up in time to see that they've stopped at a set of doors marked with bathroom signs, and she says pointedly, "Oh look, we're here."

Nan drops back, clearly disappointed, and says eagerly, "Wait here, Sabrina. I'm going to go find a pregnancy test and we'll see if that's what's going on. Okay?" She places a large hand on Veronicas arm, nearly covering it.

Veronica smiles softly and nods her head. "Okay."

Nan scrambles down the hallway and Veronica shakes her head. That was almost too easy. "Alright Ryder, let's do this." She says to the air.

"You need to find a computer in there that is connected to the internet. Can you do that?" He replies, his voice like a geeky bug in her ear.

Veronica remembers exactly where the learning lab classrooms are and tells him that it won't be a problem. "Daisy Lane, here I come," she chuckles.

"What?" Ryder questions.

In her best imitation of Bogey, Veronica states, "Never mind, shweetheart. You just keep doin' whatever it is you're doin' and leave the thinking to me."

Turning a couple of corners, she comes upon the first set of flower prints and smiles broadly. "Voila!" She exclaims, full of pride for remembering where the hallway was.

"You found something?"

"Yep," Veronica says, with a happy little snap at the end of the word, "the gateway to Hell, apparently." She slips into the nearest classroom and shuts the door, hurriedly moving over to a nearby computer. "Okay, I'm here. Now what?"

The computer boots up with a little chime and she pulls out the lipstick USB that Ryder had given her.

"Just put the flash drive in and make sure the computer is connected to the Net. I'll do the rest." Over the tiny connection, she can hear Ryder doing something involving keyboard taps and electronic beeps. She furrows a brow when a very un-electronic sound of a woman moaning interrupts.

With a look of utter revulsion, she asks, "Um, what _are_ you doing? Are you watching internet porn? I bet you are, you dirty dog!" Veronica snickers as she slides the memory stick out of the base of the lipstick and plugs it in. It lights up immediately and begins flashing intermittently. She scrolls up the screen and clicks on the browser icon.

"So what if I am," Ryder cuts in defensively and Veronica chuckles, welcoming the chance to be herself for a moment before Nan returns.

"Hey, whatever you do in your own time is your own business, but just so you know, I have no intention of listening to you pleasure yourself. Besides, you've got a real job now. You're in."

The mouse on the screen begins to move on its own and Veronica watches with rapt interest and a tiny smile as pages of data fly by.

"Find anything yet, Mr. Hairy Palms?" She asks, reclining in the chair, swiveling it from side to side.

"Shush, Junior. I'm working. This level of genius takes time." He scolds with a soft chuckle.

"Well, hurry it up. Nan's going to be back soon with a stick for me to pee on and I would _so hate_ to have to tell her to shove it up her-"

"Ah! Almost there," Ryder exclaims, "but I'm not finding much. Their records are pretty shoddy. All I've found so far is an employment contract for Lana Echolls for a place called 'Libera'. Seems she started working there about a year after her divorce from Aaron."

"Libera? What the hell is that?"

Ryder taps a few more times and the screen she's looking at suddenly pops up with a picture of a white medical building the LIBERA logo at the top of the screen. She frowns as she reads the description of the building. "Libera is a fertility clinic? Why would Lana be working at a fertility clinic?"

"Don't know, Junior. But that's it on Ms. Lana. All I could find. Why don't you go collect Blondie, Sr., and get yourselves out of there? I'm going to dig around and see if I can get anything else on this place. Right now, it's our only lead." As an afterthought, Ryder chuckles and adds, "unless you want to stick around for the rest of the guided tour. And I know how much you're looking forward to finding out if your boyfriend knocked you up."

"I hate you. So much." Veronica seethes, but her face breaks out into a smile. "Okay, let Beth know it's time."

Veronica grabs the flash drive and shuts down the computer. Just as she reaches for the door, Ryder's voice comes back over the speaker. "Um, so about that last request…"

Veronica rolls her eyes. "What?"

"Beth isn't responding. All the video and audio I have of her is empty. I can't seem to figure out what's going on, but nothing is recording."

"What do you mean?" Veronica says angrily, a small sliver of dread pooling in her stomach that she does her best to ignore. "I thought we were covered. How did you not notice that?"

Ryder sighs in annoyance. "I don't know. It was all working great until you left her alone, and then it just, froze up, I guess. I didn't notice because…I was tracking you. I thought everything was fine with Beth."

Rubbing her brow, Veronica sighs in exasperation. She didn't fail to notice the awkward pause and suddenly she knew exactly what happened. "You ass! You got distracted watching _porn_ and now Beth might be in trouble!"

Ryder titters nervously, and Veronica swears she will find a way to tear his manhood from his body over the phone line if she has to. "Look, I'm sure it's fine. Just go back and get her yourself."

 _Fuck._ Beth's been out of contact for a half-an-hour and no one has noticed. Anything might have happened. "Fine, but if you lose contact with me, you send in your guys. Understand?"

Ryder agrees and Veronica throws open the door. Immediately, she runs face-first into the chest of a very elderly lady, nearly knocking them both to the ground. "Oh my god," Veronica exclaims, "I am so, so sorry." Scrambling to her feet, she holds out a hand to the old lady to assess the damage she's caused when her hand is snatched up and she stumbles forward with it.

"Hey," she yells, but the frizzled-haired woman who has grabbed her holds her hand tight, staring down at her palm. Silently she traces over it with her finger as Veronica tries to pull away.

"Don't," the lady commands with surprising strength, tugging the hand back again. She looks up and something deep in the woman's charcoal eyes steels Veronica's breath away. "Your life line is broken," she mutters cryptically.

Confusion and anger manage to snap her back to reality. Glaring, Veronica manages to get her hand back as she says, "Okay. Um, I'm not really interested, so I'm gonna go…" She tries to push past the older woman, but is frozen in place by a dark hand upon her chest.

"Your life line is broken," she repeats, as if expecting Veronica to understand.

Sensing that the old lady might be crazy but probably isn't actually dangerous, Veronica shakes her head and says, "Okay, I'll be sure to take care of that. Now, I've got to-"

"You," the woman taps Veronica's chest with a bony finger and a powerful force behind it that takes her by surprise. "You need to fix it. Your line has been broken by great tragedy once before. It shattered you into pieces. But your head line crossed it then. Look," she says, as she reaches down before Veronica can stop her, and snatches up her hand again, holding it palm up so that Veronica can see. She moves her finger to indicate the lines she's referring to, and Veronica can't help the little tickle of interest she feels watching her.

Tracing across the deep ridge in the center of her palm, the woman stops at a junction of another ridge ascending from the base upwards and points, "Here. You overcame your tragedy by cutting off your heart line. " She continues to move her finger along, stopping when the line forks outward in two distinct directions. "But this, this is a new tragedy. One you have yet to face. It is crossed by your heart _and_ your head line." She indicates the line leading downward in the middle of her hand. "A very powerful line for you, I think. This means you have a great love in your future. True love. Not everyone has this. But here, it leads up to your Girdle of Venus. Very unusual. My dear, your lover is in peril, unless…"

Despite herself, Veronica is captivated by the old woman's words and she feels overcome by the need to hear what she is going to say, even if she thinks _Miss Cleo_ here is a little bit nuts. "Unless what?"

"This, here," she points to slight feathering of lines, "this is your Simian Crease. It's completely unbroken, meaning you have a great force of will about you. You are single minded to a fault. See how this line crosses all the others and ends here, at this fork in your heart line?"

Veronica nods in response, wondering why her throat has gone dry and she can hear her heart beating in her ears. There is something within her that just resonates with the truth of this woman's words. Something she never knew existed. For a single moment, she finds that she wants to _believe_.

A heavy, deep stillness hangs all around them. The silence feels pregnant with possibility and meaning.

They lock eyes again, this time, Veronica can read the years in the creases of the woman's face. She can read the pain and joy, the wisdom and folly. She's drawn in by all the stories waiting to be told in her dark brown orbs. "You, my dear, are a force of nature, someone to be reckoned with. But this," her voice quiet and graveled with age, she taps a crease near the joint of her fingers, "this is your girdle. It holds you back."

"What's that supposed to mean? I need to stop wearing a belt?" She quips half-heartedly. Inside, her pulse beats erratically and her thoughts feel jumbled.

Veronica expects a smile at the least, but the woman's dark gaze remains deadly serious. "You have great wit and cunning. And an astounding ability to lie, even to yourself. Here," she plants her bony finger squarely at the center of Veronica's palm, "after the last break, it has taken over all the other parts of your life line until you can barely notice the difference."

Veronica finds herself remembering all the lies she's been telling lately in the name of getting to the truth. It hurts.

She can feel her breathing go shallow as the old woman tightens the grip, digging her nails slightly into the meat of her palm and looking up into her face. Their eyes meet and Veronica goes cold, as her entire being seems weighted on the woman's next words.

"You, my dear, have been lying to yourself for so long, you don't even know the difference. But it is going to destroy you and the one you love. You need to see the truth. You need to tell him the truth, before it's too late."

….

"What do you mean evil?" Beth says carefully, as a growing dread creeps through her limbs. Her mind is flashing quickly through all the revelations of the last few days and she can't help but focus on the biggest one of all: the kid who looks just like Josef – Logan. Did Lana have something to do with his birth? How was that possible? Even if Lana had 'magic abilities,' she couldn't just make a kid appear out of nowhere? And what about all the hospital records her and Mick had found? Were those all faked, too. Highly unlikely. Just what was going on?

Before Marla can respond, the office doors crashes open with a bang and Beth very nearly jumps right out of the seat. She was already on edge from all the questions stirring within her in the air. Beth swings around to see Veronica standing slightly outside the door and draws a quick intake of breath. She is absolutely shocked by Veronica's appearance. If she didn't know better, she'd say the girl had seen a ghost.

"Veronica?" Beth asks, completely forgetting about her alias and then realizing that Marla already knows her real name anyway. She rushes from the chair when the girl doesn't respond and pulls her out of the office with a confused look back towards Marla, whose face remains unreadable.

Once outside, she places her arm on the girl's shoulder and is shocked by the clammy trembling of her skin. "What happened?" She whispers.

Swimming up from whatever state she's been in, Veronica lifts her watery blue eyes towards Beth and sets her jaw. "You're okay? Ryder said he couldn't get a hold of you." Her voice is shaky, and Beth can tell how hard she is trying to keep it steady.

"Yeah, I'm fine…but what about you? What happened to you?" Beth is dying of curiosity and not a little fear for what might have befallen this girl.

Before she can get her answer, Veronica breathes in and rolls her shoulders back. She tries to smile. "I'm fine, just…um…sorry, I got a little carried away. That Nan had me coming out of my skin." As she speaks, her eyes drift away and scan the hallway behind her absently. Beth has spent enough time questioning people to know when she is being lied to, but this is Veronica, a girl that is just barely trusting her as it is, and she decides not to push it. If Veronica wanted her to know what was wrong, she would tell her.

"Oh, okay. I'm just finishing up with Marla, but I've found out so much. She's been amazingly helpful," Beth says before realizing that there was no way she was going to be able to explain anything she learned.

Veronica's eyes grow a little more focused and her smile a little more genuine as relief settles into her features. "That's great! Ryder got us into their computer system, but we didn't find much yet."

Beth looks over the still pale girl one more time, mentally arguing about whether to ask her one more time if everything is okay, and sighs. "Come on, I just need to finish up and we can get out of here."

Veronica trails behind like a ghost and finds a seat next to Beth's. Marla hasn't once taken her eyes off the girl since her arrival and Beth wonders at the frown on the woman's face and what it could mean. Did Marla sense something about Veronica? Does she know what happened to her?

"Marla, I can't thank you enough for helping us out," Beth begins, leaning closer to the desk to shake the woman's hand. Marla breaks her stare with Veronica enough to smile at Beth and accept the hand. "We need to get back and track down Lana before she can do anymore damage."

The woman returns her gaze to Veronica, who is staring at nothing on the far wall, the hazy, worried look back on her face. Suddenly, the woman stands and comes around the desk so quickly, Beth doesn't have time to react. She grabs Veronica's shoulder and lowers herself so that she is eye level.

Veronica's eyes goes from shock to anger in a flash as the woman basically forces her to look up. "Dear," Marla states firmly, "something happened to you, didn't it?"

Veronica's eyes narrow and Beth can see her jaw clenching as she scoots closer in, preparing to pull her away if needed. "I don't know what you're talking about," she scoffs. The shutters are up in her eyes and her entire body says 'closed for business'.

"Yes you do," Marla argues as tenderly as possible, still scanning the girls face like a doctor searching for signs of illness, as her dark eyes pin the girl down, just as she had to Beth earlier. Suddenly, she pulls back, bones creaking, and stands straight. "But I won't force you to tell me. You can have your secrets for now, I sense you need them." Marla tilts her head and looks directly at Beth, even while speaking to Veronica. "But you need to open up to someone, girl. I fear for you if you don't." She sighs heavily and returns to her chair. "I know there are questions you have about things you might have experienced here. I know the answers you are searching for aren't going to be what you want to hear. But I sincerely hope that for your sake, you aren't stubborn enough to refuse to accept the truth when you see it."

Puzzled and more anxious than ever to find out what happened to scare such a tough girl like Veronica, Beth asks, "Please, Veronica, Marla's a friend and she just wants to help. As do I."

Marla rests her hands on the desk. "If you are worried about others hearing, I assure you that our conversation will be completely confidential."

Frowning, Beth remembers what Veronica had said about Ryder not being able to get a signal from her. She wonders if this wasn't something like the supposed 'vampire force field' that surrounded the building. Lost in her own tangent, she fails to notice when Veronica jumps from the seat and very nearly bolts for the door. At least it only takes a second for Beth to come around and run after her, calling her name.

Spinning on her heels with a vehemence that takes Beth by surprise, Veronica shouts, "Don't, Beth! Just don't! I want to get out of here. I want to go home. I-" and then, she was falling apart, chest hitching, eyes bright with tears. _What the hell?_ Beth thinks. This girl was not the type of person who broke, who lost control, that much she knew for certain. What was she supposed to do? This was way outside her comfort zone.

Almost as soon as it began, it was over and Veronica was back in control. Drawing a breath, she looks up at Beth and asks, "Do you think I'm a liar?"

 _What_? Vaguely aware that her silence was sending the wrong message, Beth stutters and says, "No, Veronica. I don't think-"

"-Don't…don't do that….don't try to placate me. Just, when you look at me, when you speak to me, do you think that I'm lying to you?"

Her expression was such a mixture of hurt and anticipation, Beth honestly didn't know what the girl was more eager to hear. Tucking back a loose curl of her hair, Beth sighs heavily. "Veronica, I know I don't know you well, but I feel like you and I share a very similar personality. I know you keep things hidden. I know you do it to protect yourself. But I don't necessarily think that makes you a liar." She does her best to keep her words soft, her tone gentle, and it seems to have the correct effect because Veronica's whole body relaxes.

"Look," Beth continues, finally feeling that she has earned the right to offer a comforting hand to the girl, "I don't know what set you off, but if you ever want to talk, I'm willing to listen. And believe me, there's nothing you could say that would make me think less of you."

Standing there like a mannequin, Veronica blinks rapidly in succession before the moment is over. "Okay," is all she says. "Can we get out of here? I've had my fill of this house of horrors."

"Sure. Let's go home," Beth replies.

….

As she watches the two ladies leave, Marla twists the chain of her necklace around her neck and sighs. She can recognize the look of someone whose come face-to-face with the impossible a mile off. She wonders what secrets were revealed to Veronica and whether they have any bearing on the situation with Lana.

Lana. A name she'd love to never hear again. Nothing but trouble, that woman is. Nothing but a whole heap of trouble.

Striding back to her desk, Marla glances down at the notebook containing her dreams. With a slightly shaky hand, she turns the page from the strange mass of words she had shown Beth.

In front of her is a mess of a different kind. The page is nearly black with writing, tiny script and large loops. _Death. Death. Death._

In the center, the letters break off and reform one word: _Neptune._

Before she can talk herself out of it, Marla reaches over and grabs a set of car keys from a nearby drawer. Maybe it's time she went and paid her old friend a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions?

**Author's Note:**

> Comments? Questions?


End file.
